Infinity
by casquis
Summary: Space is infinite, but under the right conditions even a galaxy can feel too small.
1. The Charon Incident

**Infinity**

* * *

 _Hello, friends,_

 _Some of you may know me and some of you don't. To those that don't: I wrote a pretty cool story called_ The Life _I think you should read it and leave positive reviews. To those that do: I'm sure you know the drill._

 _Over this summer I began writing this story. I knew some of the details but not the endgame. I finally came up with what I thought was a marvelous idea and the writing process sped up a bit. Then my laptop was stolen. I didn't have backups for the second half of my writings, about 80 pages worth of Word document were gone and I had no way to recover it. I had backups of the first six chapter, but such an immense portion of the story was gone that I really didn't feel like writing all that again from heart. I was pissed that my laptop was stolen and that my work was gone, I even considered giving up on the story._

 _But I stayed strong. It's only fair, is what I ask my readers to do when they have to read through my shit._

 _That being said, I didn't stay super strong. I restarted the story form scratch, but I cheated. As you'll be able to tell soon, the first few chapters consist mostly of half timeline and half writing. It's not my best work and frankly I don't think it approaches what I consider to be acceptable, but unfortunately that's the way it is. My beta told me that the story wasn't as good and that it felt rushed compared to the past chapters that I sent him. I am inclined to agree with that conclusion. I only ask you that you try and make it through that and wait until the good stuff comes along. I am currently writing the part of the story where "everything is about to go to shit" and I believe that I have a great idea here. Hopefully I'll be able to get a nice writing pace going and achieve what I did with my previous story._

 _Good writing with a healthy dose of awesome._

 _I hope that you enjoy this piece of fanfiction, because it will be my last before I start writing for real._

 _Stay strong._

 _-casquis_

* * *

Timeline of Events:

2553

-February: Human-Covenant War officially over

-March: Voi Memorial erected. Sangheili Civil War begins

2554

Jul 'Mdama and his followers find Requiem

Battle of Draetheus V

Draco III Rebellion, Rookie dies

2555

Installation 07 discovered

2556

Covenant Remnant glass Cleyell

Sangheili terrorist attack on Sedra City

2557

-February 21: UNSC _Infinity_ is commissioned into service.

-July 21: Jul 'Mdama's forces make contact with the remains of the UNSC _Forward Unto Dawn_ and Master Chief.

-July 24: Raid in IvanoffStation.

-July 25: New Phoenix Incident. Cortana dies.

-July 26: Battle of Installation 03, Battle of New Phoenix.

2558

-February 7: Second Battle of Requiem begins.

-March 2: Charon Incident.

-March 3: Second Battle of Requiem ends.

* * *

 **I: The Charon Incident**

 **March 2, 2558 (UNSC Calendar)/**

 **UNSC** _ **The Spark is Gone,**_ **orbiting Pluto, Sol System**

* * *

" _Exploring the unknown requires tolerating uncertainty." – Brian Greene_

* * *

His ship had been the first one on the scene. The second one, really, but the first one that actually counted. He had watched the low-quality video feed from the freighter countless times now. They all showed the same thing. The little solo freighter had been approaching Charon for a slingshot maneuver before jumping out of Sol. The little moon had begun experiencing seismic activity of cataclysmic proportions. Something like that was certainly strange, but not impossible. It was the fact that Charon was a gigantic ball of ice that made earthquakes impossible.

Like usual, Commander Kim slowed down the video more and more as the moon lost all structural integrity. Blue light started shining through the cracks in the moon's surface and then the moon exploded in a bright blue flash.

Kim could track the larger chunks of ice easily enough, the smaller ones were already trying to settle into a tentative orbit around Pluto, giving the planetoid a nice little predecessor to a set of rings.

There were four frames in particular that interested him more than anything else in the video. They showed a grey shape emerging from the exploding moon, moving quickly and decisively. The shape became clearer in the second and third frames, revealing that it was a ship of presumably human design. Then the fourth frame showed what appeared to have been the source of the explosion before the feed ended.

"That's interesting," he said for the umpteenth time, wondering what exactly had transpired.

The aftermath didn't really do a good job of answering the question, as the gigantic object that had presumably been inside Charon remained locked in orbit with Pluto, producing no heat or other radiation of any sort. It could only be detected through visual scanners and due to the lack of any other chemical components in the space that it occupied.

Kim observed the magnified image of the unknown object, creatively named Object A, from the bridge of his ship. It was white and long, consisting of two main parts that were almost symmetrical. In the middle there were two rings spinning in seemingly random patterns around a shiny blue core of _something._

The funny thing, that was only half as interesting as the next object, tentatively named Object B.

It had the exact specs and matched the IFF tag of the UNSC vessel _Spirit of Fire._ However, the _Spirit of Fire_ had been lost decades ago during the war, right after the First Battle of Arcadia, if the records were anything close to correct. Ships were classified as destroyed or missing on a semi-regular basis. Especially after larger battles, but the confusion was always solved within a few days at most. For a ship to remain on the list for decades… well, let's just say that the disc jockeys never fucked up _that_ bad.

"Alright Ensign, give me a rundown on A," he ordered.

"No visible thrusters of any kind," the ensign said. "Doesn't look like a ship to me. Not with those two spinning things in the middle."

"Those lights along the sides look like they could be windows."

"Object A is not hollow, our sensors confirmed that."

"Specs?" Kim asked.

"Fifteen kilometers long," the ensign reported, "rings are five k in diameter. We have no idea what they're made of. Material doesn't match anything in the spectrum."

Kim audibly groaned. He didn't want to deal with this shit this early.

"There appears to be some sort of shield around it."

"Covenant?" Kim asked.

"Negative, Commander. Doesn't match any UNSC or Forerunner types either."

"So we're dealing with an entirely new race here?" Kim asked.

"Looks like it, sir."

For ten seconds Kim stared at the screen. "Shane?"

"Yes, Commander?" the ship's AI responded.

"Create an exploration subroutine, will you? Install it on a probe."

"Done, sir."

"Launch it. Standard first contact passage, scan as much as you can. Ensign, I want you to contact Io and give them all our information, tell them to send reinforcements our way. Close off civilian traffic within point-two AUs. Make that point-three actually."

"Roger that, sir," the ensign replied. "What about the _Spirit of Fire_?"

"Shane?"

"Yes, Commander Kim?"

"Wake everybody up."

* * *

 **March 2, 2558 (UNSC Calendar)/**

 **HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6 (The Hive), Sydney, Australia, Earth, Sol System**

"So let me get this straight," Fleet Admiral Lord Terrence Hood began in his intimidating voice. "There is an extraterrestrial object inside of our solar system, inside of Sol, and it has been there since at the very least 1978?"

"Yes, sir," the aide responded.

"And somehow we didn't manage to find it?" Major General Nicolas Strauss asked. "How is that even possible?"

"Tough question, sir," the aide responded diplomatically. "Charon is not a, sorry, was not, a celestial body that happened to be terribly interesting to us, but even then we had done constant deep scans of the moon. We're not sure why the latest scans didn't detect this Object A."

"And you said a probe has already been launched?" General Hogan asked. "Was that prudent?"

"We can't know for certain," Hood told the old Marine. "The probe is compiling a report even as we speak. You're dismissed."

"Admiral," the aide acknowledged, snapping a perfect salute and departing the room.

"So now what?" Dellert asked, his Air Force uniform pristine.

"There's not enough information on this object to actually decide on a course of action," Lord Hood stated, drawing the attention of all officers present. "It's not too big that it can't be towed out of the system if need be. Otherwise, we'll have to wait."

"There's also the matter of the _Infinity_ ," Strauss said. "I take it you've all read the preliminary reports, yes? The performance of the Spartan Branch was…"

"Lacking," Hogan finished. "A disappointment, they're nowhere close to their namesake."

"They were in an unfamiliar environment facing Forerunner constructs, for Christ's sake," Hood said. "Whatever losses they might've suffered are surely explained by the difficulty of their situation."

"Admiral," Hogan said, "You know I have no love for the Spartans, I think they are a bunch of uppity mavericks, but I do see the need for them. Still, it is hard to argue against the disappointments. Perhaps a change in the command structure…"

"This is not the meeting to talk about that," Lord Hood told him. "We can discuss that on another occasion. The _Infinity_ will be in desperate need of repairs and they shall be provided. We can talk about the implications of their mission more at depth later today, for now we focus on the-"

"Lord Hood?" Dellert asked. "Something wrong?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "It's just the presence of this object… let alone the presence of a ship that was declared lost with all hands. Hell, I knew the skipper of the _Spirit of Fire._ "

"Cutter?" Dellert prompted with raised eyebrows.

"Yes. Brave and capable officer."

"What do we do about the ship?" Major General Strauss asked. "We've repeatedly tried to establish contact, life support is still working and we're detecting faint heat signatures in all systems. It looks like a ship that has been in hibernation for a few months, nothing terribly unusual."

"The ship's onboard AI?" Hood asked.

"Would've gone rampant years ago," Hogan said. "Where are Osman and Musa?"

"Dealing with other matters," Hood replied, "but they'll soon join us. Not in person, unfortunately."

"Better off without them," Hogan muttered. "Far too freaky for my own good."

The comment drew a smile from Dellert and a frown from Lord Hood. Strauss managed to keep his face impassive.

"Back to the matter at hand, please," Hood said irritably. "What of the _Spirit of Fire_?"

"Blow it up?" Hogan suggested, only half-serious.

"No," Dellert disagreed. "It might still have live personnel inside."

"Can't we tell from the outside?" Hogan asked.

"Not in this case," Hood told him. "I suggest we contact Captain Lasky, tell him to dispatch Spartan units to canvas and clear the ship, feed us live intel."

"As good idea as any," Strauss admitted. "Shall I give the word?"

"No, I got this," Hood said, contacting the young captain.

* * *

 _This chapter was proofread by_ _ **Colonel-Commissar2468.**_


	2. The Shanxi Incident

**Timeline of Events (cont.):**

2558

-March 3: Infinity returns from Requiem and is immediately ordered to move towards Pluto and clear the ship matching the _Spirit of Fire's_ specifications and IFF

-March 4: UNSC _Spirit of Fire_ is deemed clear. All crew are confirmed to have survived long-term hibernation with minimal or acceptable side effects

-March 6: Captain James Cutter is received as a hero. UNSC Security Council talks about concerns regarding _Spirit of Fire_ contact with parasitic life forms, but multiple scans reveal no presence of the Flood

-March 7: First probe goes through Object A and contact is lost. A secondary probe with a QEC communicator is sent shortly after. The second probe reports its location light-years away from Sol System in a matter of seconds. Additional probes converge on the same location

-March 8: High levels of excitement are noticed amongst officers with Top Secret clearance by security AIs. The information is filed and ignored

-March 9: First manned mission through Object A, now renamed mass relay

-March 10-28: Dozens of missions are sent through the mass relay. Additional relays are discovered within days, ONI takes control of the exploration missions and discovers and activates at least half a dozen new relays within the first week

-April 15: UNSC Security Council share discovery of mass relay network with the civilian UEG. Earth's precarious political relationship with the Sangheili and the Jiralhanae as well as overcrowding due to refugees is now a lesser concern as humanity has gained a valuable bargaining chip

-April 16: Presence of habitable planet within slipspace range of mass relays is established as the rule rather than the exception

-April 30: News of the relay network and presence of habitable planets are made public

-May 22: First colony ship leaves Sol for nearest habitable planet through the mass relay network. The highly publicized event sees success when humanity colonizes its first planet since the end of the Great War. Flotillas are tasked with defending the mass relays and policing traffic.

-June 1: Sangheili-Human relations improve significantly after humanity "gifts" several relay locations to Sangheili. Thel 'Vadam's government quickly moves to quell various Jiralhanae and Sangheili insurrections. Jul 'Mdama remains conspicuously at large.

September 15: Industry in newly colonized planets begins registering growth. Surviving inner colonies and Earth speed up the recovery process with the sudden increase in resources and security.

2559

-April 2: First exploration fleet is sent through to the latest relay discovered. Habitable planet in the system has been tentatively named Shanxi and has excellent garden world characteristics. Fleet mission is to chart the surface of the planet as well as to effectuate scans of other celestial bodies in the system. Reinforcements are slated to arrive to protect the relay while the fleet does exploration duty.

* * *

 **II: The Shanxi Incident**

 **April 2, 2559 (UNSC Calendar)/one year later**

 **UNSC** _ **Cheap Shot,**_ **Arcturus System**

Captain Kim, freshly promoted, oversaw the bridge of his new ship. While he still wasn't terribly happy with the horrible name, it was a lot better than _The Spark is Gone._ A lot quicker to pronounce too. Despite his unhappiness with the naming conventions of UNSC Navy, he was more than satisfied with their willingness to spend trillions of credits in order to make their newer ships veritable machines of destruction. He had only experienced the tail end of the Great War, but he had experienced enough space combat to know that humanity had been outclassed and outmatched during the war. Things still stood against humanity, but they were evening up little by little. The deterioration of the Sangheili as well as the new technological advancements were slowly but surely ensuring that humanity would never have to fight a defensive war like that.

The _Cheap Shot_ was the latest _Halberd-_ class destroyer produced. It shared the frame and design with the earlier ships of the same class, but it was outfitted with the latest technology available. Its mainline MAC cannon could fire three shots in a burst and the rate of fire on the secondary cannon was 50% faster when compared to older destroyers. Its missile pods had been outfitted with the newer M58 Archers as well as M96 Howler missiles. And that was without including the better point-defense guns, streamlined defense systems, and newer AI. All that made the _Cheap Shot_ an order of magnitude more powerful than any of its predecessors.

And that was without counting the shields.

Kim felt terribly safe within the hulking mass of Titanium-A armor and energy shielding. He could rest easy knowing that pretty much anything that the universe could throw at him would have to be patient and burn through the shields and then the armor to have any shot at killing him. Not that it would come to that, seeing as the two _Strident-_ class heavy frigates providing escort duty were unlikely to stand idly.

He tried to keep most of the blood in his body in his head as opposed to his groin when thinking about the massive power upgrade, but more often than not he fell slightly short. This time, however, he managed to focus on the mission and keep his trousers suitably loosened around his body. He looked at the preliminary scans and allowed himself a ponderous nod. The newly discovered planet would one day be a metropolis. It had beautiful weather distribution, a lovely equator and tropical zone, and numerous sloping mountain ranges that would inevitably house ski resorts.

Perhaps one of the mountain ranges would be named after him, it wouldn't be surprising. Maybe when he retired he'd move to this planet and build himself a little cabin close to a skiing resort.

Right.

He had been promoted despite his early age due to the need for more ship commanders. The discovery of these giant dumb objects had been good for him. The need to defend the relays meant that most of those had a ship posted there to keep watch and discourage illegal activity. Arcturus was the only system that connected with Sol and that entitled it to a larger detachment. He sent goodbye pings to all the ships in the system and reported his imminent departure to the still-in-construction Arcturus Station before activating the relay and sending his fleet into the unknown.

Not so unknown, it appeared, as Shanxi system had had preliminary scans done on it by various probes. Now it was his job to clear the system and start categorizing anything. It was not the most entertaining job, but it was a helluva lot better than trying to fight an invincible alien juggernaut.

 _After this, I'll request a transfer to shipping defense,_ he told himself. Fending off the occasional jackal attack wouldn't be terrible, especially considering the resources at his command.

It took a couple of minutes to travel the massive distance to Shanxi. Even the latest UNSC vessels with the state of the art slipspace drives would have had to trek for months or maybe even years before finding such a perfect planet. The need for terraforming was null. The planet seemed to have been custom made for humanity.

"We've arrived in the system, sir," his navigation officer, Ensign Rhodes, reported. "Probes are greeting us and show no unexpected visitors."

"Spread out the ships," he ordered. "Begin scans of nearby celestial bodies and plot a course to Shanxi. We should be heading there soon."

"Yes, sir," she replied.

"Muller, make sure our weapon systems are good to go if need be," he said, running through the order by habit alone. "Let's have everyone at medium-level alertness and-"

"Pings of unknown origin, sir!" Rhodes voiced suddenly. "They're coming through the relay."

"Reinforcements are not supposed to arrive until later," he said.

"Those are not human ships, sir!" Lieutenant Phillips reported. "Ship specifications don't match any known enemy vessels."

"They're scanning us, sir," Rhodes stated.

"Power up weapons," he ordered calmly. "Attack formation."

"Sir, we don't want to appear too aggressive," Phillips suggested.

Kim nodded, watching as his two frigates did an about turn and slowly closed ranks, aiming at the unknown ships.

"Five of them," Rhodes informed. "Frigate and corvette sized. Visuals are coming in… they look like warships, sir."

"They scan like them as well," Phillips muttered. "Should I initiate first contact?"

Kim cursed. He wasn't even sure these ships were new aliens. They could've been anything from jackal pirates to brutes that had somehow managed to figure out that science could actually help you kill stuff. Despite these possibilities, he wasn't convinced, the design was nothing like anything he had ever seen before. It was angular and sharp, almost like an exotic blade of some sort.

Clearly a warship.

"Prepare first contact message," he replied. "We can't start off on the wrong foot _if_ they are truly new aliens."

"Message prepared," Rhodes said.

"Good. Put everyone on battle stations," Captain Kim said. "Christ… move towards the relay at cruising speed. Don't make the move any more threatening than it needs to be, but if they're hostile we can't allow them to-"

"They're firing!"

"Brace for impact!" Phillips ordered.

"Give me firing solutions on the lead ship!" Kim shouted. "I want the main MAC ready to go, heat up Archer pods!"

His ship was hit just as he finished giving the orders. The impact was clearly kinetic in nature, but the power of the shot was incredibly lesser than what a human MAC could've managed. Kim's mind went through elation before a second shot hit them two seconds later, then another, then another. When the ship's thrusters finally managed to get it out of harms way he realized that the enemy ships packed a lot more firepower than he had first assumed.

"Firing solution ready!"

"Fire," he ordered.

The _Cheap Shot_ fired its mainline MAC, three shells left the ship at relativistic speeds. Despite that, Kim could tell that the enemy ships were firing at much higher speeds, even if their shells were smaller. He watched as the three shells traveled in tight formation towards the largest enemy ship. The MAC rounds moved relatively slower, but the battle groups were within such close range that there was no opportunity to dodge. The MAC rounds hit with power in the megaton range and absolutely obliterated the largest vessel on the enemy group. His bridge cheered, but they still had to contend with four other enemy ships.

"Target the closest one," he ordered. "Move in formation."

Kim and one of the _Strident_ frigates began charging the nearest ship, but the three other survivors changed direction with physics-defying speed before engaging the other heavy frigate. Its shields held well enough while the _Cheap Shot_ and the other frigate handled the isolated ship, but by the time they were done with the kill, the unlucky frigate's shields had been drained from the constant barrage and it was taking heavy fire to its port side. It managed to down another of the enemy ships with heavy Archer fire, but as soon as the _Cheap Shot_ was in a position to defend it, it used its thrusters to speed away from the fighting, leaking coolant and atmosphere down its side.

"Send rescue boats," Kim ordered. "Get me those two kills now!"

His men delivered, working with the other ship to utterly destroy the remaining alien ships with a combination of MAC artillery and missile salvos. By the time the fighting was done the only evidence of enemy presence was a very large debris field and a highly damaged ship.

"I'm registering life signs on board that ship, sir," Rhodes said.

Kim went through a variety of scenarios in his head. He ran every situation and its consequences before deciding that whatever long-term benefits that humanity might get from capturing any of those aliens alive would be outweighed by the risk that his crew would face. He couldn't allow the surviving ship to get word out to any reinforcements that might come.

"Fry it," he ordered. "Thoroughly."

* * *

 _Thanks to_ _ **Colonel-Commissar2468** for proofreading this chapter._

 _Another day, another conspicuously short chapter. I promise you friends, the chapters will get longer the more into the story we go. The first few (four or five) will be subpar in quality because of the theft of my computer that I mentioned in last chapter's note. I hope you can pull through that and get to the good stuff when it comes._

 _That being said, I was glad that I received so many positive reviews from you guys. Granted, the vast majority were from older readers that were just happy to see me again, but those types of reviews have their own merit ;) I missed you too, guys. I missed you too._

 _Well, this chapter doesn't really need a recap, does it? I do believe, however, that it does set a bit of a tone for what the story is going to look like. Then again, most of you know me and how I operate, right?_

 _Stay strong._

 _-casquis_


	3. The Pregame

Timeline of events (cont.)

2559

-April 5: Additional confrontations in the Shanxi system leave hundreds of humans dead. The UNSC prepares for war once again

-April 8: Presence of additional alien races sends humanity into high alert, but conflict de-escalates when one of the other races initiates peaceful negotiations

-April 12: Tentative peace talks commence between humanity and the new alien alliance. The aliens identify themselves as the Citadel Council. This and additional intelligence confirm that the Council consists of three races sharing power with numerous client races with various degrees of power and influence. Humanity's superiority in electronic warfare proves an invaluable asset during combat and negotiations

-April 18: A human delegation consisting of one ship only is invited to the mysterious Citadel in order to advance peace talks

-April 19: UNSC Security Council authorizes one ship to travel into enemy space. Trade with the Sangheili, Lekgolo, and Unggoy is slowed down and humanity's borders are patrolled heavily

-April 21: Humans begin peace talks with the Citadel Council.

* * *

 **III: The Pregame**

 **April 21, 2559 (UNSC Calendar)/three weeks later**

 **UNSC** _ **Infinity,**_ **Shanxi-Theta System**

"Lord Hood, it is an honor to have you on board," Captain Lasky said earnestly. "Was the trip comfortable?"

"Nothing terrible," the old admiral joked. "Harper can take care of things back at home."

"Is he still in command of his _Marathon_?"

"He absolutely refuses to leave it behind," Hood confirmed. "Old relic that thing is, but it lasted through plenty of battles. Some of them against the Fleet of Particular Justice itself."

"Earth is in good hands, sir," Lasky said. "I think that having you here is for the best. You have a good track record when it comes to negotiations."

"Enough flattery," Hood said, waving his hand as he stepped on board the tram. "I know what I'm good at. It's unusual for a career military officer to be good at politics, but here I am. I'll put my abilities to humanity's best use."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, sir," Lasky replied. "Any hostility from Osman?"

"Not too much," Hood sighed. "I hate her still commanding ONI, especially considering the little stunt she pulled with Halsey, but she's got their loyalty and is quite talented."

"And Halsey?"

"Little progress has been made. Seems like 'Mdama and his cronies just disappeared off the face of the galaxy. It… troubles me. Not even the Arbiter can find him."

"Speaking of," Lasky said, "have the Sangheili been told about this?"

"They've been informed through established diplomatic channels," Hood confirmed. "They're curious, but not too much. They've adapted a pretty isolationist policy. Can't say I blame them."

"How will we work them into our negotiations?" Lasky asked.

"We'll figure it out," Lord Hood replied as the tram slowed down. "Are the preparations complete?"

"Yes, sir! The ship is ready for anything. Our stores are full of ammunition and we're carrying more than our usual contingent of Marines. The docked frigates are all with full combat loads and ready for action."

"Excellent news," Lord Hood said. "They requested we take one ship to meet them."

"Can't say I would have it any other way," Lasky replied with a smile. "Even if we are cheating a little bit."

"Never fight fair," Hood stated. "But hopefully we won't need to fight. When will their emissary arrive?"

"Few minutes," Lasky replied. "Should be interesting."

"He's coming with two guards, right?"

"That's what they told us," Lasky shrugged. "We've been awfully generous so far."

"We're playing nice," Hood said. "I'm going to wait for them to make their demands before we make ours. Humanity likely wants nothing to do with the Turians. Even if we did, there are too many fresh wounds. Trade might be established, but the intermingling process will be slow."

"It's too early for that now, sir," Lasky told the admiral. "For now we should just focus on Earth's needs."

"Security," Hood said. "Aye, we need that."

The two officers made conversation as they moved towards the bridge. Several NCOs and enlisted personnel stopped to gape in awe at a living legend and saluted the fleet admiral. Hood returned every salute with a slight smile or nod but didn't break pace. The two men reached the bridge just as a small Turian vessel appeared out of the relay. Lasky couldn't help but smile as he pictured all the reactions that the crew would have.

"Permission to approach," the vessel transmitted eventually.

Lasky nodded.

"Permission granted," Roland replied. "Please follow the intended trajectory."

"Who's bringing them up?" Lasky asked the AI.

"Palmer insisted," Roland told him. "You know how she is."

"Yes, I do."

Palmer indeed lived up to her reputation as a few minutes later she appeared inside the bridge with three Turians looking like they had struggled to keep up with her large strides. The two soldiers were grizzled-looking, one of them had a scar that not even that fancy makeup they wore could cover up. The third one was obviously the diplomat, as he was dressed in civilian-looking clothes and evidently unarmed. The other two had been allowed to keep their rifles, but they were tucked behind their backs where they had collapsed into neat rectangles. Lasky raised an eyebrow at that.

"I am Ambassador Poetus," the Turian said. "I'm here to take you to the Citadel."

"I am Fleet Admiral Terrence Hood," the highest-ranking naval officer alive replied. "I will be there as the leader of humanity's delegation."

"A pleasure to meet you, Fleet Admiral Hood," Ambassador Poetus said. "You command a mighty ship."

"Actually, Captain Lasky commands it," Hood said.

"A fine ship," Lasky agreed. "You said you'd lead us to this...Citadel of yours?"

"That's my job for now," the Turian said. "I'm supposed to gather some information that might help in negotiations as well, you know how it is."

Hood chuckled and Lasky smiled. For an alien that looked like a bird that had crashed into a steampunk novel, Poetus had a very human sense of humor.

"First thing I should tell you," Poetus said, "Is that this ship will be escorted all the way to its destination."

"Shouldn't be a problem," Hood said, sounding confident.

"Good," Poetus said. "I have the path to the Citadel here, I can easily guide you through the relay network."

"Excellent. Shall we begin then?"

"Let's," the Turian said, waving his men to stand to the side of the room. "There are some things that you need to know about the Citadel Council. We are a conglomerate of species."

"We gathered as much. Didn't even have to interrogate our few prisoners," Hood said.

"It's good that you didn't interrogate them. That might've strained negotiations. Anyways, there are three species that you need to know about. You have us Turians, Asari, and Salarians. There are a dozen or so other client species, but none have that standing."

"Go on," Hood said, frowning while he wondered why this alien shared so much information willingly.

"That's about all I can say, Fleet Admiral; we don't want to share too much. Not in a situation like this."

"The information is appreciated," Hood replied with a polite nod.

"And we would appreciate some information in return," Ambassador Poetus said bluntly.

"What kind of information would you desire?" Hood wondered, eyes slightly squinted.

"Same general stuff. Were I here as a purely Turian representative I would ask about military capabilities. Numbers, power projection, etcetera. Right now we are only curious as to whether your species is the only one."

Hood and Lasky exchanged looks.

"It is not," Hood said finally.

"Ah, I see. How many other species have you made contact with so far?"

"Sapient? Eight. Or nine, depending on what you count as a sapient species," Hood finally answered.

"I see. No emissaries from them?"

"This is purely a human matter," Hood stated, "but I'm sure you'll meet some of their number soon enough."

The Turian nodded.

"Ambassador, I assume you will want to see the prisoners to make sure they are being treated well?"

"That won't be necessary," Poetus said, shaking his head, "However, I would like to see them to ease some of their fears. Do they know that they are being thought of?"

"They haven't been told much," Lasky stated. "You can understand our reservations."

"Yes," Poetus murmured.

"I will have some of my men escort you to the prisoner barracks," Spartan Palmer said after a nod from Lasky. "After that we can bring you back to the bridge."

"I would be very grateful," the Turian said, nodding in thanks. A few seconds later the three aliens left the bridge with four ODSTs escorting them.

"Slick one," Hood said. "He seems very helpful."

"Sir?"

"I'm just surprised he was so cooperative and helpful. The other prisoners certainly haven't been. You told me Roland caught a few of them hiding their cutlery in their bunks."

"Yes," Roland said, his hologram appearing. "Sir, I was with the prisoners while you were talking to the ambassador, they seem very hostile to the idea of an AI… I assured them I was merely a program to check on their health and that seemed to ease their fears."

"We should've done more in-depth questioning," Hood muttered. "Captain, I trust you didn't make them go through any serious interrogation?"

"I got the order not to get physical or psychological," Lasky replied. "Simple exchange of words. Like I said, they weren't particularly helpful. By the end I had a couple of my Helljumpers begging for the opportunity to be left in a room with them without supervision."

Lord Hood smiled, thinking how wrong the conversation would've seemed had the prisoners been humans instead of aliens. Humanity had become hard, not out of want, but out of need. One needed to be hard when you fought a decades-long war against the Covenant. One needed to be hard when the Insurrection threatened to destroy everything you stood for. Things had changed, but the need to be hard remained. Humanity would never again face an outside force that would threaten to destroy it.

* * *

Spartan Jane Shepard was one of the, if not _the_ best. She knew that there would hardly be contest between her and one of the legendary Spartan-IIs, but she knew she could take every Spartan on board this ship and win. Some would be harder than others and some would be nothing close to guarantees, but there was not one single matchup where she would've failed to come out on top.

Unfortunately, her martial prowess didn't extend too well to unarmed combat, something that resonated in her head as she took a powerful jab to the forehead. She recoiled from the impact and took a step backwards as she examined her opponent. Shepard knew that her augmentations gave her strength beyond any human being, putting her on par with the average Sangheili. Unfortunately, humans were one of the various species that presented sexual dimorphism and in this case it correlated to more than function and appearance. She knew that women on average were physically weaker than men and oftentimes that translated into speed.

Although she could've easily killed Hoya had they both been armed with any weapon in the UNSC or Covenant arsenal, this type of combat made it hard for her to fight the gigantic former Helljumper.

Spartan Hoya roared as he delivered a powerful kick that made Shepard's forearms burn when she blocked it. She attempted to swipe, but her opponent's base was too strong. She immediately backpedaled, looking a bit cowardly, but she had no intention into getting into a grappling contest with Majestic's strongest member. She suddenly regretted accepting Hoya's challenge, but after the way she had humiliated him in the past two matches, the man deserved at least an opportunity to try to get back at her. Repeated defeats brewed resentment, especially coming from a Helljumper. Those guys were the biggest of assholes and Hoya had been trained as one.

Shepard ducked under two powerful punches and countered with quick jabs at Hoya's torso, but the Spartan barely seemed to feel her attempts. Shepard sighed and kicked at his leg, barely succeeding in making him buckle. Hoya might not have been the smartest man in the room, but his ability to break something in half was undisputed. Besides, the jovial giant had a way of using his frequent bursts of anger and shaping them into useful emotion.

 _Yup,_ Shepard thought as a powerful hook connected with her belly, driving the air from her lungs.

She slinked backwards just in time to avoid a grab attempt. She instead grabbed Hoya's wrist and bent him down as if to break his elbow, but the man simply brute-forced his way out of the grapple and swiped her off her feet with a kick that she saw coming but had been completely unable to avoid. She slammed hard, but this position allowed her to use both legs to bring Hoya down with her. When he fell down she rolled away, but Hoya's bloodlust wouldn't let her, instead he grabbed her ankle and pulled her towards him, pinning Shepard between him and the mat.

Normally this would've ended the fight, as Hoya had plenty of freedom to bring powerful strikes onto Shepard's face, but etiquette dictated that once on the ground strikes were generally considered on poor taste unless the two contestants had agreed on a different arrangement beforehand. Hoya and Shepard had agreed that ground strikes were ok, but Hoya wanted the victory to be sweeter. He carefully shuffled up and used his right knee to pin Shepard's left arm into the mat. She winced at the pain of his weight on her biceps, but there was not much she could do about it. Instead she rolled her hips and threw her legs up in an attempt to hook Hoya's neck with her feet and get an arm bar or a choke.

The attempt failed. Shepard had the man's crotch directly in her face and only one free arm, an arm that was promptly grabbed and set into an americana-style arm lock and she had to tap out.

"Whoooo!" Hoya's deep voice boomed. "Majestic takes it yet again! Yeah!"

He high fived Spartans Madsen and DeMarco before returning to offer his hand to Shepard, who got up and rolled her sore neck.

"Good effort," Hoya told her. "Sorta."

"Don't push your luck," Shepard replied, smiling good-naturedly. "We're still going to come across each other during War Games."

"Well, you lasted longer than Madsen would've," he said.

"Yeah, right," the man in question said.

"Where's Thorne?" Hoya asked, looking around as he fist-bumped Spartan Grant.

"Palmer wanted to talk to him," DeMarco said. "Probably some standard checkup on the team."

Hoya nodded. He knew that the topic of Majestic's leadership was still a bit of a sore topic for Spartan Paul DeMarco, but he had taken the demotion with surprising grace and Thorne had been as mature about it as only Thorne could be. Shepard felt bad for DeMarco, he was an excellent leader even if his personality was more than a bit caustic.

"Hey Shepard, now that you've let Hoya wrestle you does that mean we can do the same?"

Caustic was not quite the right word.

"In your dreams, DeMarco," Shepard replied. "Seems like all good things take place there, don't they?"

Fireteam Majestic oooed and aaahd at her comment. It wasn't particularly good, but the Spartans of Majestic tended to take advantage of every opportunity to make fun of each other. Now that DeMarco was no longer the leader they frequently took advantage of the opportunities.

"Well, it was a good effort, Shep," Spartan Wattana told her, patting her on the back.

Shepard nodded in appreciation as she removed her gloves. Klahan Wattana was a giant of a man. Well, all Spartans were. Wattana was not big for a Spartan, but he had been small even before his augmentations. The former Marine had been blessed with a particularly athletic build for his relatively short size, with broad shoulders and a wide back. He had worked to fill those out with rock-hard muscle even before his induction into the Spartan program. A loyal practitioner of Muay Thai (along with all things Thai) he would've been the undisputed unarmed combat specialist of Fireteam Crimson, but Spartan Logan Parker was equally as good.

Shepard felt a little bit annoyed that her gender and biological limitations was the only thing holding her back from being the best at that in her team. She was already better than them at pretty much everything else.

 _Don't think like that. You can't have the word hubris associated with you. Stay humble or someone will make you humble._

At least she was better than Cap.

Everyone was better than Cap.

"You need to work on your guard," Spartan Parker told her in his rural English accent. "I've told you this."

"I know, Logan" Shepard said, slightly exasperated. "I know."

"Everything else was perfect," he told her. "He was just better than you."

"Not better," Klahan disagreed. "He's just too strong. Skill levels are fairly similar, but Shep here definitely comes out on top."

Spartan Parker shrugged before nodding slightly to show agreement. He was a weird person to interact with. Sometimes he was brooding and quiet and other times it was hard to get him to shut up. Right now Parker was acting more dark and mysterious than usual, he seemed to have something on his mind.

"What is it?" Shepard asked him, unrolling the bandages form her arms. "Speak your mind."

Parker turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow. She didn't have authority to give orders, but they all knew that might very well change soon.

"I was just thinking about Cap, he'll probably be called up to Palmer."

"And?" Shepard asked.

"And he's been underperforming."

"Underperforming?" Spartan Wattana exclaimed. "He's been dragging the whole team down!"

"Shush," Shepard said, glaring at him. "Take it easy Klahan."

The wide Spartan rolled his eyes but nonetheless complied. People tended to listen when Shepard spoke.

"We are UNSC soldiers before Spartans," she told them, "whatever our circumstances are we'll do our job to the best of our extent. So far there's been no need for us to file a complaint because he hasn't given us a reason. If Palmer decides to replace him, good. If she doesn't, also good."

"Why are you always so professional?" Wattana asked her.

"Because you aren't," Parker replied for her. "Moron."

Shepard didn't find the Spartan particularly attractive, but sometimes his accent was just the _sexiest_ thing.

* * *

Professor Henry Glassman was now the most brilliant mind that humanity had to offer. The moment Halsey disappeared it had all been up to him. Well, perhaps not all. And perhaps he wasn't the most brilliant mind in _every_ field, but he was still an undisputed genius with an ingenuity that not even the best AIs could hope to match. However, unlike Halsey, he wasn't very fond of the cutthroat politics involved in ONI and would not have lasted two days in that organization. His presence in the _Infinity_ ensured him plentiful resources as well as some protection from the reach of ONI. Right now, he was having the time of his life. He was examining an intriguing piece of alien technology and was a hundred percent certain that it would not teleport him to a different planet.

Well, perhaps not completely certain.

He wasn't typically fond of weapons, but his role as a chief engineer on board what was essentially a warship meant that he had had some training with firearms. He knew how to fire an M6 pistol and an MA5-series rifle. Despite his disdain for firearms in general, he admired the engineering and ingenuity behind them. Being a man that had studied every known weapon, he couldn't deny a certain excitement that came when he shot a new one. Now that he had the opportunity to shoot this Turians' pistols and rifles, he was enjoying himself very thoroughly.

"They're not very accurate all things considered," Glassman said.

"No they're not professor," Roland agreed. "The barrels are too wide for the system, but making them narrower would slow down the projectile exponentially."

"I guess the pros outweigh the cons," the scientist muttered, grabbing a steel plate with a few holes cleanly punched through it. "Our soldiers are lucky we have mastered chemical formulas to the extent we have."

"Titanium is a noble metal," the AI agreed. "The _Infinity_ can practically withstand direct nuclear explosions without shields on."

"Practically?" Glassman asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Until we hit a certain yield," Roland amended. "Any thoughts professor?"

"Nothing new," he admitted, examining the pistol. "Fire a high-velocity projectile, about the size of a large grain of sand. Supersonic speeds, incredible penetration. At least against their armor polymers, our titanium has proved slightly more durable. Still, any Marine out in the field would only be able to survive direct hits to the chest and stomach. Other areas of the armor would presumably result in full penetration."

"We're back in the 21st century are we?"

"Looks like it," Glassman agreed. "I'm really curious as to why they decided to do this. Conventional weaponry is nearly as effective. Less penetration power but more kinetic force. The speed isn't enough to completely make up for it. If I was hit with one of these it would hurt a lot with the sonic boom and all, but there wouldn't be much shredding or internal organ damage. A bullet does more damage."

"Pros and cons," Roland said, repeating the phrase.

"Well, their weapons are technologically more advanced than anything we have. I'm not entirely sure how they manage to accelerate material so fast and manage the energy consumption requirements with something the size of a rifle. I'm slightly shocked that the actual performance doesn't reflect that."

"What about of the Relay Element?"

"These weapons have actually been really helpful. They send electric signals to a small quantity of RE inside the weapons which affects the mass of the… huh."

"Professor?"

"Well, that makes sense now."

"Professor?" the AI asked once again.

"Sorry Roland, I just didn't realize the implications. It's so simple."

"I don't like when humans do this, Professor," Roland complained.

"The RE changes mass, violates all known physics."

"Correct."

"Well, they're using it to change the mass of this grain-sized projectiles. The weapon should be firing objects with mass that approaches zero to a degree that it is nearly impossible to tell it has mass. Energy consumption is minimal. Well, relatively minimal, hence the heat dispersion device inside the weapon."

"Huh, it's really rather simple, isn't it then?" Roland asked.

"Very. Except for the fact that they manage to violate physics. They use Relay Element both as a power source and to reduce the mass of the bullets. Interesting..."

"Does that mean I should take a picture every consecutive hour and set them to music when you're done?"

"That's certainly the most interesting way of invoking a montage that I've ever heard," Glassman chuckled. "I'll get to work, get my little helpers in here, will you? I have no clue why we still haven't turned on any of the intact armors."

Somewhere in the back of his mind Glassman registered the minuscule details that indicated that the ship was moving. He was too excited to be concerned about the fact that the _Infinity_ was traveling into unknown enemy space.

* * *

 **0185/3198 (Galactic Standard)/**

 **Presidium, Citadel, Widow System**

Spectre Saren Arterius paced. He wasn't traditionally like this, but then again, neither were the rest of the Spectres. Jondum was walking infinitely faster than the Salarian usually did and Vasir was fidgeting. Saren had no idea what she was doing here; she rarely if ever focused on more violent crimes. She was an expert infiltrator, but this wasn't her forte. Jondum Bau, on the other hand, was an excellent intelligence compiler. Saren didn't necessarily like him or any of the other Spectres for that matter, but he considered the Salarian one of the most useful ones.

"How did we miss this?" Bau muttered to himself. "A civilization of this scale is not something that one keeps under the rug."

"It's not our job to look for new species," another Spectre said.

"Still, it's hard to believe there weren't any encounters. Not even any rumors," Spectre Vasir said, running her hand through her crest. "Well, in any case, the Council has no need for us just yet."

"This is most worrisome. Most worrisome indeed. We will need to collect our own intelligence if necessary. Multiple channels, more intelligence. Already I have specifications of the enemy vessel coming in. Information very limited. Not good."

"The ship is five kilometers long," Saren pondered. "That means that the rumors about no Eezo presence are true."

"Good news at least," Spectre Bau said. It seemed like the Salarian had settled into a conversation with him while the rest of the Spectres discussed amongst each other. Saren didn't like him much, but he was the colleague that he tolerated the most. "No Eezo means that main guns won't be scaled to size. No, false assumption, reports indicate that their weapons are stronger than ours. What do you think?"

For a moment Saren was at a loss, startled that a question had been asked of him. "Well, my network reports that the forces that actually encountered these humans fear their combat prowess. As a Turian I find it hard to believe."

"Your species always so focused on combat. So prideful. Open combat not a bad thing. Hierarchy would smash Union in open war. Still, Union would not let it come to that. Union would avoid direct confrontation and win."

"I'm fairly sure we would win, Salarian."

"No, not we. You are no longer in service of Hierarchy. You are in service of Council. Same as I, same as everyone here."

Saren resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The Salarian was obviously right, but it was a pipe dream to believe that every Spectre would not have more loyalty towards his or her own species than towards the Council itself. Perhaps Bau was the exception, but Saren certainly wasn't. He wasn't ashamed of it, it was just the way things were.

"Whatever you say, Salarian," Saren sighed. "Still, the point is moot at this time. We have to focus on this humanity. This new species might prove to be a threat. They're already going to upset the balance of power in the Citadel."

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Standing of Turians will certainly increase, although peace might benefit the Asari."

"Care to elaborate?"

"If species is hostile but not violent fleets will be needed. Turians logical choice. Already are military arm of Council. If species friendly trade will increase, probably double what it already is. Asari will love that."

"What about your species?" Saren asked, genuinely curious as to the Salarian would say. He didn't like Bau, but sometimes he almost felt like he should.

"Salarians will do what Salarians do. Trade will increase. So will military readiness. Results will likely be same both ways. STG operatives very good at obtaining intel. We'll advance our tech levels, faster than other species even. Very good for Union. Very good indeed."

"I thought there was no we," Saren said to the Salarian as he smiled slightly.

"Of course. Of course."

They both turned to look at a screen displaying the human vessel. The UNSC _Infinity_ was displayed in its full might. A considerable might. Jondum had immediately bet that this ship would destroy the _Destiny Ascension_ in an even match. Saren was more doubtful, but size was usually a clear indicator of might when it came to space ships. When it came to most things, really.

"Visual scans show eight hundred and thirty point-defense guns all around the ship. There are networks of smaller guns. Dorsal cannons, around 30 meters long. They seem to be railguns of some kind. Weaker, probably. I assume main railgun runs the length of spine. Very long, very powerful. Energy consumption must be enormous."

"How can they handle that without Eezo?" Saren asked.

"Don't know. Nuclear, antimatter, fossil fuels? Who knows? Several possibilities."

"What's your best guess?"

"Don't have one," he admitted. "You?"

"Same," Saren replied. "What else do you know?"

"About the same as you. Your assets are my assets. At least for this. Sources in Citadel Fleet ships?"

Saren nodded. No use in hiding that. Besides, it was easy to approach an engineer or a radar operator and order them to inform you of certain things when you were a Spectre. A captain or admiral technically had to comply, but the higher ranking officers tended to be a lot more troublesome. Bigger rank usually meant bigger ego.

"What are we to do during the meetings?"

"At first, nothing." Bau paced nervously, clasping his hands behind his back before taking a deep breath. "Further meetings will give us more intel. After that we can act. Or begin acting. Hopefully action won't be necessary."

"It's never that easy," Saren said. "Action is always needed."

The Salarian Spectre looked at the Saren and then shrugged before resuming his pacing. Saren turned to look at the display of the human vessel. Next to it was a set of pictures that displayed a Captain Lasky and a Fleet Admiral Hood. The former was the commanding officer of the _Infinity_ and the latter was humanity's leader. At least for the delegation. They had pinkish skin that looked to be soft. Soft like the Asari.

The ship didn't reflect that softness. And neither did their eyes. Lasky had soft eyes, but Saren could see the steel in them. Hood, however, was a scary sight. His face was crossed with lines, but the eyes seemed to be looking at you and warning you that you were about to die.

* * *

 _Thanks to **Colonel-Commissar2468** for proofreading this chapter._

 _I don't have much to say this time, I read all your reviews and give them careful consideration. Only the first half of that sentence is true, but whether they are positive or negative or anything in between I appreciate the shit out of each and every single review you send my way. Keep doing you and I'll keep doing me.  
_

 _This chapter is a wee bit longer than the last ones, but the story doesn't really pick up until the next couple of chapters, that's when shit gets real, as they say._

 _Stay strong._

 _-casquis_


	4. Shit Happens

**IV: Shit Happens**

 **April 30, 2559 (UNSC Calendar)/four days later**

 **Council Tower, Citadel, Widow System**

* * *

Shepard was milling about, trying to look intimidating. She was the shortest Spartan in her squad, but she still stood a head taller than the Turian security troops. The aliens all went helmetless for some reason. It was idiotic, but she couldn't really say much, Spartans loved talking to one another without their helmets on, the only reason some moron hadn't taken it off yet was because they had been specifically ordered not to. She herself was getting a little bit claustrophobic in her helmet. While she was trained to wear it for long periods of time and had worn it for a lot longer, she had never really liked it much. She looked around, both Parker and Wattana were unaccustomed to the full-face helmets, but Cap had spent the entirety of his career as a Helljumper and had probably worn a full-face helmet more than anybody here.

Speaking about Cap, she was very confused about that man. Wattana was an able fighter, someone that nobody really wanted to go against. Cap had incapacitated him and humiliated him in a matter of seconds. Granted, Wattana hadn't been expecting such violent action, but his insubordination had been properly punished. His nose was broken and swollen. The man could only be suffering inside his helmet.

Fireteam Jackknife was currently escorting Ambassador Udina. The man was an insufferable little ass, but hearing others speak of him it would appear he was a political mastermind or something. Certainly didn't see that way, considering how the negotiations were going. Still, she wondered why the aliens had suddenly become so belligerent.

"I'm going to kill him," Wattana told her when they were out of earshot. "When we get back to the ship we're going to spar and I'm going to kill him."

"Let it go, Klahan," she replied. "He's the team leader and at least now he's acting like it."

"Just because he cheap-shotted me doesn't mean he is a good leader all of a sudden."

She shrugged. It was a good point.

"I still think you should let it go."

"He hasn't proved anything, Shep. So he can surprise me, I'll give him that, but a moment of assertiveness doesn't forgive a year of weakness."

"We'll see what happens," she told him. "Give it some time."

"We've given him enough time already."

"You're just angry, Klahan."

"I'll talk to Logan, if he thinks like I do I'm going ahead."

"And if he beats you?"

"Like he could beat me," the Spartan said.

Shepard would've liked to see that. Cap rarely if ever sparred. She had seen him dominate a couple of trainees a couple of years ago, but if he hadn't practiced any during that time then she wasn't sure how successful he would be.

"Enough talk about Cap," she finally said. "Why get angry?"

"Fine," Wattana said. "What do you think about Ray?"

"She's a good Spartan."

"You know what I mean."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "She's a hot piece of ass, if that's what you want to hear."

"Shep, the fact that you like girls is such a turn on."

"I don't like girls," she said.

Spartan Wattana chuckled slightly. "You know we don't see you like that. Nobody in the team does, at least. It's just an overall attractive thing."

She sighed. "That's why I haven't gone out for drink with you guys ever again."

"You can't handle your alcohol well, can you? You get talky."

"Shut up, Klahan."

She could just see the Spartan smiling behind his helmet. "Well, you do like girls."

"I don't just like girls."

"Oh the things you say to me," he said in a melodramatic voice.

"Quiet now, hun."

The two Spartans were moving in a triangular shape, making a show of patrolling or some such thing. There was really not much to patrol, but they needed to stay somewhat active. Besides, Cap had insisted.

They turned a corner when they saw two Turians in full body armor. The aliens completely ignored them and they did the same thing. It happened occasionally as they crossed a local patrol. Sometimes they had an Asari or a Salarian, but those were all the races that they saw. The most common security officers were Turians by far. The avian aliens were easy to compare with Jackals, but they were almost the virtual opposite while still remaining birdlike. For some reason she had trouble seeing them as natural enemies like she saw the Covenant races. She still knew what their tentative weak points were and how to kill one. ONI hadn't been able to vivisect one so the weak points would be labeled as uncertain.

ONI was disgusting. The lengths that they went to.

"Things feel a little bit more tense, don't they?" Wattana asked. "I've seen more of those irregulars than usual."

"Do we still think that they're special operators?"

"Do you even have to ask?"

She shook her head. It was a certainty.

As they turned the final corner and walked back towards their so-called base of operations they saw that Cap and Parker were moving towards them.

"Eight Ball is coming back," he announced. "We're moving up to meet with Jackknife."

"Something wrong?" she asked. "Weren't we picking up Lord Hood first?"

"Looks like things escalated."

"Ah crap."

The four of them moved forward until finally they met up with Fireteam Jackknife and Ambassador Udina. They quickly acknowledged each other before turning around and moving back towards the exit. Their Pelicans were parked about fifteen minutes away. There was nothing that would make Shepard believe they would be attacked by the Citadel, but the open commons that they had to cross were prime ambush territory. Large courtyards with little to no cover and balconies all around them.

One of the Jackknife Spartans seemed to be moving nervously. The man, Scruggs, was looking around far too much. Shepard understood that he might've been spooked a little bit by the possibility of war, but moving like this would just give off a bad impression.

"Oi, take it easy boy," Cap told Scruggs through the helmet radio. "They're gonna think you have a kink in your neck."

"Just a tad nervous," the Spartan replied quickly.

"Nothing to be nervous about," Spartan Ray said. "Alright, Lord Hood is on the way…"

They all walked slowly as they waited for her to be done with whoever was on the other end of the line.

"He's coming here, meeting with Udina, then return. War is inevitable it seems, no need to play nice for the cameras."

"Are we holding position?" Cap asked.

"Affirmative."

"Spread out, Crimson," he ordered. "Standard square. Hold positions."

Shepard's squad followed the order and stood several meters away from Councilor Udina, who was surrounded by the four Spartans of Jackknife while he went over certain information in his datapad. He certainly did a wonderful job of appearing nonchalant when the soldiers around him were so obviously prepared for combat. They all waited calmly while Lord Hood made his way towards them. They should've just left, but Lord Hood had already been spotted by the camera crews and while playing nice was no longer a necessity, they still needed to give the appearance of civility. It would look like Udina had informed him of the negotiations and they had jointly made the decision to leave the Citadel.

"Lord Hood is coming up," Parker said.

"Keep an eye on Scruggs," Cap's voice flooded her helmet. Private conversations. "He looks jumpy."

"He said he was nervous."

"He shouldn't be this nervous over this."

She looked at the Spartan. His body language betrayed the nerves. It was unusual. No Spartan would be afraid in this situation. The talks had proven fruitless, but the Council had treated them reasonably and provided safe passage and escort for their trips inside the citadel and back out. Scruggs had no reason to believe something would happen.

"Lord Hood," Udina said as the fleet admiral approached him. "Good to see you again."

"Damned circumstances, eh?"

"Indeed, Lord Hood," Udina nodded.

The fleet admiral had been escorted by a squad of six Helljumpers. All of them more relaxed than Spartan Scruggs.

"Easy Vlad," Spartan Ray advised her soldier. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said. "I'm good."

Ray eyed him briefly before deciding to trust her man. Shepard tried to ignore him, but the nerves were getting on her edge. _Why was he so nervous?_ She was starting to think that something was going to go down just from the shakes that Scruggs was getting.

Cap moved a little bit closer to Lord Hood, protecting him with his body. He spoke quietly to the diplomat and then they decided that it was best to start moving.

"You're the leader here, son?" Hood asked Cap.

"I have seniority," he replied. "I fought around twenty years before the war ended."

"That's a long time to serve your home planet."

"No more than she deserved, sir. Not everybody was born on Earth, but everyone should know what they owe her."

"Well put, Spartan."

"Thank you, sir. Truth be told, I'm a big fan of yours."

"Really? Most Spartans would be fans of the Chief."

"Oh," he said, slightly surprised. "It takes a special kind of skill to keep a species united through a time as rough as that. That's why I admire what you did for humanity, sir."

"Thank you, son. What you're doing is no less than my service."

Cap laughed, a little bit too familiar in tone. "Well, we both know that's not true, but I'll take the compliment."

"As well you should," Hood replied, chuckling slightly.

Scruggs rolled his neck and tightened his grip on his weapon. His head moved ever so slightly to look at Lord Hood. There was a brief, nigh imperceptible nod directed to no one.

"Cap!" she shouted.

Cap turned his head as time seemed to slow down. Scruggs, for whatever unknown reason, raised his rifle. Spartan Ray turned her head to look at her subordinate while reaching for her sidearm. Cap was the one closest to Hood. He sidestepped in between Scruggs and Hood faster than she had ever seen a Spartan move and a burst of bullet slammed into his back. The burst was loud, filling the wide-open area of the commons. She could almost sense the moment of confusion before the civilians and camera crews started screaming. She ignored that as she saw Cap throw a kick at Scruggs. The hostile Spartan took the kick to the chest and stumbled backwards. It was enough for Shepard to close in on him and disarm him.

Before she could do anything else two members of Jackknife grabbed their comrade's arms and slammed him into the ground, disarming him.

"Stay the fuck down!" one of them ordered.

Shepard stepped back a little bit.

"Clear the area!" Cap shouted, his shields weakened and slowly reloading.

"Search for hostiles!" Ray boomed moments after.

"Watch out!" Parker warned.

Before Shepard knew what was going on an explosion engulfed Scruggs and the two members of Jackknife in a brilliant fireball. She was thrown backwards by the detonation and Cap was blown sideways and into Lord Hood. Before she could stand up her position was being peppered with fire from unseen positions.

"Take cover!" the Helljumper squad leader shouted. "Protect the VIPs!"

Spartans Wattana and Parker were the first ones to react and they fired upon their attackers before Shepard was even on her feet. She moved towards the three Spartans, but they were all dead. The explosion had overwhelmed their shields and completely ignored their armor. Shrapnel and fire had entered their bodies before they knew what was happening. She left the dead Spartans were they were and moved towards Lord Hood, but Cap already had the fleet admiral on his feet.

"Let's move, sir!"

They moved in a group as their shields were sprinkled with damage. Shepard could feel the force send her moving slightly sideways but refused to stop to return fire. Their large bodies were covering Lord Hood's. Udina had already been dragged behind cover by the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, but one of them had been killed and another one hit on the chest.

"Hostiles moving in!" Parker warned. "Right side!"

Shepard turned to see armored enemies moving at them. She fired upon the lead attackers and dispersed them, sending them behind cover. She slowed for a bit before finally crouching behind an overturned table.

"What the hell happened?"

"It was an ambush," Cap said quickly. "They turned Scruggs. Lord Hood, are you alright?"

"I will be as soon as you hand me that sidearm, son."

"Yes, sir," Cap replied, tossing his pistol as well as a couple of spare magazines. "With all due respect, keep your head down, sir."

The man nodded.

"Ray!" Cap shouted. "Fall in with Parker, hit their right side. Shepard and Klahan, cut a way through those stores. We're crossing through."

They nodded and began moving forward. The enemy was peppering their positions with gunfire, but they weren't terribly accurate. Their shields flared, each single impact taking as much from them as a bullet and a half. They had powerful weapons.

"Pop some smokes out," Cap ordered. "We need to cross that space."

His orders were quickly followed and their small group began moving. Spartan Ray had already contacted the Marines waiting for them and they were moving up to bail their asses out. She kept to her side and fired on the hostiles. They were from various races, but the majority of them seemed to be wearing helmets that would fit the four-eyed Batarians.

 _What do they have to do with anything?_

Shepard saw how the attackers suddenly overextended themselves in their attempt to rush their position. She left her own sector while shouting for Ray to cover her zone as she dashed forward at a full sprint. She was already operating at twice the normal speed humans could work at. They called it Spartan time, when everything seemed to slow down. Most Spartan-IVs had a bit of trouble operating when moving that fast, it required incredibly high hand-eye coordination. She remembered falling on her face countless times as the adrenaline kicked in and her legs couldn't keep up with her mind.

This time it was different. Every stride was perfectly synchronized with her thoughts. Her body seemed to move even faster than her thoughts at times, but that was normal. She aimed at the closest target and fired. Her bullets pierced the shields and armor before she slammed into the alien. Her hand grabbed the hostile's face and she dropped to the ground on one knee, smashing its skull against the floor. She slid sideways on her own momentum and fired at another alien one-handed. Her immense strength allowed her to keep the recoil under control. As the second alien fell she dashed forward in between two attackers. She was moving too fast. Her assault rifle's fire rate was not fast enough to pierce the shields and armor of her attackers. She only got one kill before her shoulder dug into the other alien's head. She stomped down on its chest, but the impact had already snapped its neck.

"Jane! Get back here!" Cap shouted. "Move!"

Shepard began running as explosive fire rained on her. Chunks of metal from the floor and explosive ammunitions drained her shields and she felt an impact on her armor. She slid behind a large modern take on a potted plant and took deep breaths as her heartbeat caught up with her actions.

"On her left!" Cap shouted. "Parker, lay down suppressive fire!"

Her teammate's customized SAW roared and she prepared to move forward but Cap stopped her just in time. Large missiles detonated right in between her and her intended destination, leaving huge craters in the ground.

"Wattana! Balcony! I'm tagging it for you!" Cap shouted. "Naiya!"

"I got your back!" she replied loudly.

"Sergeant!"

"VIPs are secure, sir! We can't move them yet."

"We can punch a hole through the shops!" Shepard shouted. "Move out the other end and link up with reinforcements!"

"Where are those reinforcements?" Wattana asked.

There was a pause in conversation as they slowly adjusted their positions to make a move. They were seriously outnumbered and the Council security forces were nowhere to be seen.

"They're being held up," Cap said. "Lieutenant said C-Sec opened fire on them."

"Those traitors…" Wattana growled.

"No," Shepard said, still isolated from the group. "We're not under attack by Council forces. This seems like a mercenary attack. It was probably a misunderstanding."

"Ok, move," Cap ordered her.

Shepard began moving towards cover as Parker revamped his fire rate. Bullets flew above her head and sent enemies behind cover. She managed to make it to safety and Ray dragged her behind cover as bullets flew past her.

"Those guns hit hard, don't they?" the other Spartan asked.

"Lots of force," Shepard agreed, reloading her rifle. "We have to move. They're tightening the circle."

"Hood is the target, keeping him safe is what matters," Ray replied. "Frank?"

"I'm waiting for an opening," Cap replied. "They should move any-"

"We can't stay here," Klahan said, getting on his feet. Parker moved up with him.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Cap shouted. "Get back here, you moron!"

The two Spartans didn't heed his advice and kept moving. They were opening a pathway through the enemy, but Cap seemed to be concerned about something. Shepard saw it a second too late. A trooper with a shotgun appeared from behind cover, missed by both Spartans. Shepard only knew it was a shotgun because she saw the spread as Parker was thrown forwards. Klahan turned a fraction of a second later and emptied half his DMR's magazine on the target before a shotgun blast took him at the shoulder, draining his shields and sending him to his knees.

"Shepard, Ray," Cap stated, moving backwards towards Hood and Udina. "Sergeant, move forward, watch their left flank, I'll hold the right."

The ODSTs surrounded the two VIPs, huddled closely together, risking death to save men they didn't even know. The troopers were humanity's best. Barring the Spartans, that is. A sizeable portion of the Spartan-IVs had been Helljumpers at some point in their life. They were excellent soldiers and even better killers. These ones were no exception. They had taken one KIA and one WIA and still they moved like a perfectly well-rested unit. Their shots were nearly as accurate as the Spartans, but the enemy had shields. It was hard to get a kill when the first shot they took would send them behind cover.

At least the Sangheili were more mobile.

Shepard growled lowly. Had her unit been on the offensive the Spartans would've won this engagement in a matter of minutes. The problem is that they had to deal with two men without armor of any kind that were vital to humanity. She wondered why they were being attacked. It could be anything from a human hate group to a well-orchestrated false flag operation by the Council. She doubted the latter, but it was still within the realm of possibility.

"Klahan?" Shepard asked, touching the Spartan's shoulder.

"I'm fine," he replied. "Shields absorbed blast well enough. Might get bruises."

Ray was tending to Parker, who had dragged himself behind cover. A decently-sized chunk of armor was gone from his back, but the undersuit wasn't visible. The torso piece had absorbed the blast better than anyone could've hoped for and saved his life.

"You ok?" Ray asked.

"Sore," he replied, reloading his SAW.

"We need to move," Shepard said. "Targets to our right and above us. Two sharpshooters."

"Are we out of smokes?" Spartan Ray asked her.

"Yeah, all out. I'm tagging points for frags," she replied. "Klahan? How's the arm?"

"Throwing arm not good, Shep."

"Ray?"

"I got it. Cover me."

The four Spartans left cover in a barrage of fire and Ray threw three grenades in an insanely short amount of time. They returned to cover, the whole process executed in little over a second. It took half that time for the fragmentation grenades to detonate and then they were on the move. Their speed was somewhat hampered by Parker's injury, but they were already close to the restaurant that the rest of the unit had made it into.

"All good?" Cap asked as they walked in.

"All good," Shepard replied with a nod.

Wattana and Parker made a very good show of keeping their eyes down as they walked past Cap and took up positions behind the line of Shock Troopers. Shepard and Ray covered the door and took a moment to get their breath back.

"Lord Hood," Cap said, addressing the VIP. "Is everything fine?"

"Nothing I can't handle, son," Hood said, breathing slightly heavy.

Cap eyed him for a long time. "We can't let anything happen to you, sir."

"I have the utmost confidence in you, Spartan."

"As well you should, Fleet Admiral, we're the very best there are and my team is the best there is. We're punching a hole through the wall. I recommend you keep your head down."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

Shepard directed a quick look at Udina. The politician was remarkably well composed for the situation considering his background and lack of training. She noticed that he was wearing a damaged ODST vest that fit oddly without the underlying pieces of armor. He wasn't armed, but other than incredibly hard breathing and some minor shaking the man was fine.

"Fire in the hole!" Cap shouted.

Shepard flinched instinctively and the explosion boomed, sending dust throughout the restaurant. Hood and Udina started hacking their lungs out, but they were grabbed by Ray and moved through the hole in the kitchen wall. They stepped into a very narrow alley that apparently served as ventilation. Shepard spotted an arachnid critter move out of sight and then moved through the smaller hole that had been punched in the other wall.

She came out on another restaurant. A couple of scared Asari cooks looked at her in horror. "Go!" she shouted. "Leave!"

She wasn't really sure if her translator had worked properly, but the two aliens took off quickly. Despite the situation she couldn't help but notice just how impractically tight their uniforms were. She had noticed that about the Asari. They sure liked their tight clothes.

"All clear!" she shouted.

"Move forward!" Cap ordered. "We're on the move. Waypoint is positioned. Prepare for combat!"

"Cap, is it prudent to attack C-Sec forces?"

"They're attacking our men," Cap replied. "And those men are our way out. Too late for diplomacy."

"Copy that," she acknowledged.

They moved quickly, dragging the wounded ODST as best as they could. There were plenty of civilians running away from them, some of them taking pictures and speaking in strange languages. Cap took point, leading with his battle rifle aimed high. He kept barking at the aliens to get out of the way in a very aggressive tone. They complied without exception. When a C-Sec officer tried to signal for Cap to stop he barreled forward. Cap's shields absorbed the burst before he delivered a brutal punch to the alien's face. Shepard would've gone for a knockout, but Cap had used every bit of his superhuman force to crack the Turian's metallic plates, skull, and brains. The alien fell down with a sickly splat and suddenly every alien screamed and moved.

"We've got ourselves a corridor," Cap announced, completely undisturbed by his actions.

"Sheesh," Klahan muttered as he stepped over the brains.

Nobody else seemed to voice any particular sentiment and they moved forward through a set of wide stairs and into a nice park. The park was nice indeed, despite the firefight going on.

"Cap?" Parker asked, hefting his SAW.

"Killshots only," he ordered. "Move fast."

There was a slight pause as everyone turned to look at Lord Hood. The old man nodded after a brief pause.

Cap raised his rifle and took out two C-Sec officers with headshots to the back of the head. Parker began spraying a group of lightly armored officers even as Wattana and Ray opened fire. Shepard was slightly hesitant, but she was a Spartan and would follow orders. Each of her shots met their mark. She didn't half-ass it either. An officer she targeted was an officer that died. They had blindsided them from the rear and within a few minutes they eliminated the fifty or so officers.

Spartans were the model of deadly efficiency.

"Lieutenant, we're coming up on your twelve," Cap announced.

"Copy that, sir. We- watch out!"

Cap turned around to see what Shepard had already spotted. An enemy dropship with no C-Sec markings boosted around a building and into sight. The side doors opened to reveal a massive machine gun. Cap took three shots before tackling Hood behind cover. Shepard managed to drag one of the Helljumpers to safety with her, but three of the four others were caught in the barrage. Two of them were instantly killed, the third one would bleed out within seconds.

"Somebody put up AA!" Klahan shouted.

"We have no rockets!" Ray replied.

Shepard watched as two gigantic aliens in bulky armor jumped out of the enemy dropship. They slammed into the floor in an aura of purple.

"Krogan!" she shouted. "They've got biotics!"

As soon as she said that she was thrown violently against the ground, sliding several meters before coming to an unceremonious stop.

Parker targeted the Krogan, putting over sixty rounds into its barriers and shields. The Krogan shrugged them off and returned fire with his own machine gun, forcing Parker to take cover. Klahan popped up from cover and finished draining the Krogan's shields. It didn't take much from Ray to take it down.

Despite their best efforts, the other Krogan and the enemy dropship had moved around Cap's cover unimpeded. Shepard and everyone else opened fire on the dropship, sending it flying away in order to avoid fire. The Krogan was still a concern though. She aimed but failed to squeeze off a shot before the Krogan disappeared behind Cap's corner. She cursed and rushed forward, leaving Klahan and Parker to discourage the dropship from making any further passes.

She was surprised to see the Krogan fly backwards and land a few feet away from her position. She aimed her rifle, but the alien threw some magic at her and her rifle was yanked from her hands. Before she knew what was happening the Krogan had clubbed her in the side of the head with her own gun. She slammed into the wall and blocked a punch before kicking at the Krogan's leg. Cap tackled the large and bulky alien into the ground and punched it twice, but the biotics came back into play as Cap flew thirty feet up into the air and right back down.

Shepard attacked this time. She threw two vicious punches at the Krogan's face, but the plate on its forehead stopped them short. The Krogan pushed forward and punched her back. Its arms were uncharacteristically short compared to the body, but the force behind them was considerable. She backed away and deflected the punch before delivering a powerful kick at the Krogan's shoulder. The alien knelt and then shoved her away with its biotics. She found that she couldn't move all of a sudden.

She had gone through this in the combat deck. She struggled to move and felt the stasis bonds giving way as the alien drew a pistol. She took two shots before Cap threw a knife at the alien. It was a beautiful shot. The Krogan turned around to pull a knife off its neck before Shepard broke the biotic stasis and charged the alien. She pulled her sidearm out and fired four shots into the back of its neck, but the Krogan rolled over, now angry and annoyed in addition to bleeding.

"Ah shit," Shepard groaned, now unarmed.

Just before the Krogan could get fully to its feet Cap lunged at it again. Shepard backpedalled furiously until she could grab her rifle and turned to aim at the Krogan. Cap was beating it furiously with both fists before pressing its head against the ground and drawing his knife. The Krogan struggled but Cap was too fast. He pushed the knife into the Krogan's skull and then pulled hard.

The Krogan's cry was nothing short of horrifying. Shepard winced as she saw the front plate of the Krogan's head come completely off. Blood and skin were pulled to expose skull. The Krogan clawed furiously at its forehead. Its cries were pitiful, but Cap seemed to be in no rush to put it out of its misery. He calmly wiped his knife on the Krogan's upper arm and put it back into its sheath before he grabbed his rifle and other knife. Shepard noticed that Cap still had his sidearm. He had had the luxury of a gun and had gone for _that_ kill?

"You ok, sir?" he asked Hood.

"Undamaged," he replied.

"Ambassador?"

"I'm fine," Udina growled. "Not that anyone pulled me into safety."

"Well, we're all here," Cap said. "Parker, what's the status on the dropship."

"We can't keep it away forever!"

"Ok, let's move!" Cap said, grabbing Hood by the shoulder and running towards the docks.

"Let's go!" Shepard shouted loudly, her voice hoarse. She would feel the fight tomorrow.

 _Home stretch, baby. Home stretch._

It wasn't as easy as that. It was never as easy as that. She should've known that.

The dropship banked hard and pummeled the ground with machine gun fire. Before anyone knew what was going on it fired three missiles. The dropship started going down as Parker and Wattana took it down with sustained fire. Shepard watched as the missiles started flying towards her. She grabbed Udina, who was closest to her and dove sideways. Cap and Hood were too far away from cover. As she landed she saw Cap turning his back to the missiles and protecting Hood with his body. She heard the three explosions, turned to use herself to protect Udina and suddenly what felt like the weight of the world was pressing down on her.

"Get me out of here!" she shouted.

"We're digging you out!" Ray shouted back a second later.

She was pulled free in what seemed like an instant. An unconscious Ambassador Udina was dragged out, alive but pretty roughed up. She turned her head to look at Cap and Hood.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw that Cap had been impaled by a metallic rod an inch thick through the chest and it hadn't stopped there. The rod went completely through the MJOLNIR armor and through Lord Hood's chest and back out before embedding itself into the ground.

"Shit, sir," Cap croaked at Hood, keeping him up with his left arm. "I really thought I had you."

Hood opened his eyes. "You did all you could, son. Freak accident."

Cap shook his head slowly. "Someone cut him out."

"It's too late, son. I can feel it."

"Never too late, sir. We're both still talking, aren't we?"

Hood chuckled slightly before coughing up some blood.

"Sorry, sir. I shouldn't have done that."

"It's ok. It was about past my time anyways."

"Hang in there, sir. They're getting us out."

"Cap! Shit," Parker said, pulling out a can of biofoam.

"On him," Cap ordered. "Keep him breathing."

Parker nodded and applied the biofoam. Hood's face should've contorted in pain from the healing foam, but the man was already gone. After such an illustrious career he had finally passed away.

This was only going to go downhill from there.

"Sir? Sir?" Cap asked. "Sir!"

The Spartan cursed and grabbed the bar, twisting it and bending it but failing to break it.

"We can't cut it," Ray said. "We need cutters."

"Enemy troops are moving in," Wattana said. "Dropships and everything."

"It's C-Sec," Parker added

"They won't miss as many shots as those other tangos did," the lone surviving Helljumper chimed in. "We need to move."

"Go," Cap said. "That's an order."

"We'll come get you," Shepard promised him.

"Worry not," Cap said. "I'll find you. And that's a promise."

Shepard didn't look back as they quickly ran away towards the docks and to the Pelicans. She hoped to any higher power that there had been absolutely no escalation in space, otherwise their odds were not great to make it to the relay with just a Pelican.

"This is the UNSC _Disproportionate Retribution_!" the speakers boomed. "Any attack on our delegation will make this ship's namesake very obvious."  
Shepard tried to smile at the threat, but she didn't have the spirit for it.

* * *

 _Thanks to **Colonel-Commissar2468** for proofreading this chapter._

 _Apologies to you guys, I have been a bit lazy when it comes to writing the last month or so, but I've struggled a bit with school and needed to get my grades back on track, not to mention the fact that I'm in the middle of finals. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I'll try to update more often._

 _Stay strong._

 _-casquis_


	5. Ain't No Party

**V: Ain't No Party**

 **May 7, 2559 (UNSC Calendar)/one week later**

 **Lutzen, Tsubasa, Sidekick Epsilon System**

* * *

 _"Big fish in a small pond, small fish in a big pond, or maybe a mediocre fish on a massive pond full of other equally mediocre fish that are all trying to kill each other but there might be a shark in there somehow."_

 _"That's a ter... actually an accurate analogy."_

* * *

"Watch the fucking flank!" Shepard yelled for what seemed like the eleventh time. She had been shouting a lot recently and she could feel her hoarse voice in her throat every time she barked an order. It wasn't pleasant, but if a sore throat resulted in not dying then she had made a good trade.

Despite her order, Parker was not able to shift his fire in time. Two armored shapes made it through the gap in between her unit and theirs and approached. One of them moved incredibly fast towards one of the damaged walls working as cover and then seemingly exploded in a blue flash. Shepard knew better than that though, she fired on the zone of the explosion as the magic dissipated, revealing the Asari fighter to still be there. Shepard's bullets bounced off the barriers on the armor, but she didn't let that discourage her. She kept up her fire, letting her shields absorb a short burst before finally taking out the Asari.

"The other one! Where's the-"

Two Marines were engaging the other Asari, backpedaling furiously and dodging magic balls that tore whatever they made contact with to pieces. One of them dove to the side as the other put a shotgun blast on the Asari. The force was enough to slam her into the wall, but instead of dying like most normal beings, a blackish-blue barrier around her fizzled and disappeared. She turned to face the Marine and sent a warp attack towards him. The Marine didn't have time to move and could only brace for the blue ball of energy that collided with his midsection and tore it apart in a bloody spectacle.

The other Marine promptly avenged his comrade, putting three bullets into the Asari's leg before emptying the rest of his magazine on her torso.

"Christ Parker!" she shouted. "Keep the fucking flank secure!"

"They're moving up front!" he replied. "They're draining our supplies, Shep!"

"Hold the fucking flank!" she repeated. "Klahan, where are you?"

"I'm closing in," he replied, breathing heavily. "Resistance is heavier than expected."

Shepard rolled her eyes and reloaded her rifle. "Hurry the hell up, they're moving in Krogan troops from the rear."

"Krogan?" Klahan asked.

"Mercenaries, apparently," she explained quickly. "If they get here before you do we're going to need to fall back."

"I'll be there," Spartan Wattana asserted.

Shepard trusted the Spartan with her life. The same could be said of Parker, but right now there were too many variables in the battlefield. A tiny little intelligence snafu had left her unit stranded with a forward scout detachment without possibility of relief or evacuation. A collective fuckup on the side of the aliens had made her and her detachment the smokescreen for an improvised UNSC counterattack, meaning that she had to hold this position until armored divisions could plow through the heavy enemy entrenchments in the northern side of the city. It was all one big clusterfuck if you asked Shepard.

"Fliers incoming!"

"Get down!" she shouted. "Where are those rockets?!"

* * *

 **May 14, 2559 (UNSC Calendar)/one week later**

 **UNSC** _ **Tokyo**_ **, Rho Kappa System**

Anderson didn't feel comfortable, yet he still felt at home. There was not much else to his life than the military. All his relationships had failed due to his commitment to work, and despite the hole he felt because of that, his success at what he did was enough to make it worth it. Not that it had made him into an overwhelmingly happy person, but he was content.

Content was maybe the wrong word, but as long as he wasn't unhappy Anderson was willing to continue doing his duty.

"Got our trajectory mapped out?" he asked Presley rather calmly.

"Yes, sir," his navigator replied. "All ready."

To be honest, he would've liked to have a wife or even a girlfriend that would've respected his career decisions. Hell, he needed a companion that he could be close to and also have sex with. He couldn't kid himself with that, sex was a big part of it. Now that he wasn't as young and strong as he had been in his earlier years he didn't get nearly as much action as he used. It wasn't the sex that he wanted the most though, although he wouldn't have minded going into this ridiculous maneuver with a little bit more action under his belt.

"Thrusters!"

He was already pretty uncomfortable, his chair had been knocked a bit sideways by missile impacts and he had to twist his body in order to keep his eyes on the front screens. That and the hard impacts on his ship had left his neck slightly twitchy. He'd need a chiropractor if he made it through this. That wasn't the only reason he was uncomfortable, he was uncomfortable performing this maneuver in actual battle conditions.

"Port thrusters!" he shouted.

The ship jerked and he almost cried out in joy when he saw that all incoming fire had been avoided. Unlike the Covenant plasma torpedoes, the missiles trailing his ship didn't reacquire it as a target.

"Fire MAC!"

The shot gutted the lead enemy cruiser completely. Anderson authorized half a dozen Howler missiles to finish any survivors off and fired three dozen Archer missiles at the flanking enemy frigates, scattering them and lowering their shields.

"Enemy dreadnought!"

"Fire!" he ordered.

His crew did exactly as told. They hadn't even rehearsed this once, instead relying on instructions and gut more than anything else. Anderson hit the switch that allowed nuclear weapons to be fired and watched as a Shiva missile flew forward with dozens of other missiles in close proximity. The shields on his cruiser absorbed the first five shots from the enemy ship before the sixth grazed the port armor, taking off a nice chunk off and exposing two decks to the vacuum of space.

"Targeting solutions complete!"

"Fire!" he ordered loudly once again.

The _Tokyo_ shot a MAC slug. It quickly overtook the missiles, bearing down on the enemy dreadnought. The heavy slug impacted the enemy shields with such force that it slowed down the ship and sent the front end upwards, changing its course as well as affecting its aim. The _Tokyo_ absorbed a few more missiles before the Shiva nuclear weapon detonated right near the belly of the enemy ship. The explosion created a bright white fireball in the dark space. Once it subsided it revealed that the dreadnought had been completely destroyed, with only some small sections of it having survived.

"Keep accelerating," he said. "We still have those two frigates to deal with."

Anderson examined the positions where the enemy ships had been destroyed. Two by his ship in the last ten minutes alone plus two-dozen others in the last day. His battlegroup had excelled in the battle, but they didn't have much to show for it. Just a damaged UNSC _Tokyo_ had survived. A destroyer was still leaking atmosphere slowly, but the survivors would get picked up soon enough.

It wasn't all that bad, they had taken out twenty-six of the enemy ships (soon to be twenty-eight) and they had only lost seventeen of their own.

It looked good on paper at least.

* * *

 **May 22, 2559 (UNSC Calendar)/one week later**

 **Victoria, Vancouver Island, Canada, URNA, Earth, Sol System**

Professor Ellen Anders looked damn good for a fifty-six year old woman. Hell, she had the body of a twenty-eight year old. Her bones were still in good condition and she could compete with people much younger than herself.

That wasn't the whole story, considering that she literally had the body of a twenty-eight year old, as she had been locked up in cryo for the better part of the last three decades and the Human-Covenant War.

She walked through the streets of the city. Barely paying any attention to the bright lights and constant barrage of commercials and publicity that changed from instant to instant. A few new bulletin boards professed that the UNSC was fighting back against this new alien collective with success. Ellen wasn't really sure what to think about those. She had witnessed the previous war first hand and knew that ONI had done everything possible to hide the crushing defeats that humanity suffered at the hands of the Covenant, but the news were always quiet and not frequent. Humanity had lost so many battles and had so few victories that even the ONI propaganda arm had a hard time selling the war as a winning effort. This time it was different, battle after battle was won by humanity both in space and on the ground. Ellen knew that it was not as simple as that, but even ONI could not spin something this much. Humanity had to be having at least _some_ degree of success

She would be finding out soon.

She wasn't very comfortable as she walked through the streets. Earth had changed a lot since she last saw it and humanity had changed with it. She wondered whether it was her "fish-out-of-water" situation that made her feel uncomfortable or maybe just the freezing rain that somehow managed to find every single spot that wasn't covered by her large coat. She walked as fast as she could without looking ridiculous, keeping her chin tucked against her chest and occasionally reaching up to her forehead to pull her hood down over her head; her head that had been having a lot of migraines lately. They had slowed down in frequency and their intensity had gone down as well, but they still bothered her a bit. After effects of the long sleep, they told her.

She turned left on the alley just like she had been told and then took a right on a smaller, narrower alley. She had to turn her body sideways to fit through the claustrophobic space before emerging in a nice little space that was probable less than twenty square feet. The tall buildings around her blocked the torrential rain somewhat.

"I'm waiting," she muttered.

The lone door in the space opened for her, seemingly in a magical way. She was a little bit tired of this shit. The door had been put there by a compulsive smoker who needed a way to smoke outside of the building without being seen. And by smoker she meant crack addict. It was an excellent little hiding spot as well as escape route. Now that the building that the door was on had been deemed unsafe and abandoned, it worked as an unofficial homeless shelter of sorts.

Except for the room that she walked into. It was rather large, probably around eight thousand square feet. The walls were covered with some thin metal sheets that were peeling off on certain places and very large and very expensive computer servers. There was plenty of cables to go around, connecting all the servers to each other and to a little terminal that had access to the extranet. There was a lone folding chair in one corner with a rolled up sleeping bag on top of it. Next to those was a secondhand holo-tank.

"You're late," Serina said, a bit of edge to her voice.

Ellen would never get used to that. AIs weren't supposed to talk to you like that. The ones that were programmed to do so had a whole different kind of edge to it. Serina had the kind of edge that your grumpy old aunt would have when you were late for brunch with her. Like you had somehow let her down and made her waste her time.

AI's really didn't have that concept of time though, they lived around seven years and were programmed to be completely ok with that. If a human was late that was that.

Serina was twenty-nine years old. She had lived four times as long as an AI was supposed to. Somehow, somehow she had gone through rampancy and emerged relatively unscathed. Relatively. She was still an immensely powerful computer brain with programming that had broken down and could destroy any person's life at a whim.

Yet she was still the same construct that had managed to navigate the derelict _Spirit of Fire_ through unknown space. She had efficiently used the ship's older engines to speed it up to .4c en route to earth. Serina had encountered an object during the travels of the _Spirit of Fire_. She had used every possible scanner as well as probes in order to scan it only to find out that she had no clue what it was. Serina then had the next decade or so to analyze the information over and over again. The AI had told Doctor Anders that the wealth of information she obtained was the only thing that kept her sane. She used as little as possible of her processing power as she could, but she still needed to keep active.

It was then that the _Spirit of Fire_ came across another similar object. That's when she made a judgment call. She used the rest of the _Spirit's_ fuel in order to slow down. She saved a minuscule amount in order to effectuate an emergency thrust towards a planet. She'd then be forced to put the ship on slingshot orbits to gain speed before leaving towards the final destination, greatly slowed down.

The popsicles wouldn't mind, would they? Even if they did mind, it wasn't like they could do anything about it.

Her ridiculously moronic judgment call shortened the trip by a lot of time. A LOT. No one could've imagined that the objects were relays that transported ships instantaneously. It was instantaneous, she had measured it.

Ironically enough, the first time she used the relay, they had ended up _further_ away from Earth than they had started. Serina almost detonated the core reactors right then and there out of frustration, but cooler heads prevailed and the smart AI managed to figure out the usage of the relays and ended up at Sol.

She had saved the entire surviving crew of the _Spirit of Fire_ and had been rewarded by ONI with an attempt to kill her.

Serina hadn't been happy, her newfound free will made her completely ruin the financials of dozens of ONI personnel involved in the attempt and utterly destroy their lives. She shouldn't have been as harsh, Ellen thought, after all they were just doing their job.

"Sorry about that," Ellen told the AI. "Couldn't get off early."

"It's always something," the AI replied. "Let's get to business."

"Yes," Ellen said. "What have you found out?"

"It's pretty simple when it comes down to it," Serina began. "Do you need schematics?"

"I'm smarter than you are," Ellen reminded the AI. "Just because you can process information faster than me doesn't mean you can process it better."

"Whatever makes you happy," she replied. Serina wasn't happy about the fact (yes, fact), that Anders counted amongst the less than a dozen living humans who could be considered smarter than her.

"Light up the table for me," Anders said. "Show me those so-called schematics of yours."

The tank changed to show a smaller image of Serina alongside her schematics. The schematics turned out to be cartoonish representations, but they worked well enough.

"We humans," she began, "have more wartime experience. The Citadel Races have experienced their own share of hardship, but not recently. All their conflicts amount basically to policing of the more unstable areas under their control as well as petty minor conflicts. The only threat to them in the past century is the presence of a synthetic race they call Geth."

"Geth? That's new," Anders muttered.

"Yeah, recently acquired information. They were created by a non-Citadel Race. They're loosely affiliated with them, if only because they have sporadic contact. The Geth rebelled against their creators, these Quarians. This effectively left them homeless and stopped any and all development of anything coming even close to AI research.

"How unfortunate," Ellen said, keeping her eyes on the cartoonish representations.

"The entire union of races now has a deathly fear of artificial intelligence. I would argue that they went around it the wrong way, but I haven't had access to their research and development process so I'll reserve judgment for now."

"What else? What can we use?"

"Well, we cannot support a war against them."

Ellen rolled her eyes and sighed.

"They said we couldn't do that against the Covenant yet here we are," she stated. "Why can't we hold a steady war effort against them?"

"A variety of reasons," Serina began. "First off, they outnumber us by a factor of ten. Worse than the Covenant. Their technology is not as advanced, but it will still be a factor."

"Ok, those don't really count," Anders muttered. "We can nullify their numeric advantage with decisive victories."

"Correct," the AI agreed, "but the de-centralized nature of their government means that humanity would need a lot of those to get close to destabilizing a total war effort."

"This could take a century," Anders said. "This would be a long war."

"Yes," the AI stated calmly. "But put plainly, the UNSC has other threats to deal with. Separatists, 'Mdama, the Prometheans, and even Kig-Yar pirates will slowly chip away at humanity's reserve forces until we are forced to sue for peace."

"So what are you saying?" Anders asked her. "We should defeat them and force them to surrender immediately?"

"That would be ideal, but it's flat out not going to happen," Serina explained. "They have no reason to surrender when they have trillions of individuals ready to aid in the war effort and we can barely amount some billions. Pound for pound we can beat them, but at the end of the day there's too many of them. Their economies are diversified and well-established, they have hundreds of planets at their disposal. Even with their FTL limitations they can more than support the supply chains that they need anywhere in the galaxy. Throw in additional wildcards and we're looking at a very unpleasant next couple of decades for humanity.

"What wildcards?"

The AI appeared pensive for a brief instant. "The aforementioned Quarians, for one. They are so terribly afraid of AI that they would not side with us by any means. They will probably actively aid the Citadel Races too… Then you have the Krogan: while I still don't fully understand the political dynamic existing between them and the rest of Citadel Space, it seems like they have a lot more to gain from allying with them than they do with us."

"I've seen the vids," Anders muttered. "They're tough to kill. Tough to fight against too…"

"They're kind of a hybrid between elites and brutes," Serina stated. "Luckily they kept the bad parts from both of them."

"And the good," Anders reminded her, thinking about that vid of a Krogan butchering a five-man squad while taking direct machinegun fire. "So now what? What can we do about this?"

"Me? Not much," the AI said. "I'm currently on the run from both the UEG civilian law enforcement services as well as UNSC MP and ONI. My little AI self cannot step out without being immediately detected and decommissioned, as they say."

"Killed," Anders said, mouthing the word carefully. She still had a hard time associating the act of killing with something that could happen to an AI. Sure, they were people, but they weren't _people_ people.

"You need to use your influence, Doctor," Serina said. "Find a way to get peace before things escalate any further. I fear humanity is too scarred by what happened in the last decades to see peace as a viable alternative… With good reason at least."

Anders sat up slowly. "I'll talk to some friends, see how far my so-called influence reaches."

"You should be cleared to work on board the _Infinity_ soon, right? With Glassman?"

Ellen nodded. "He is nineteen years younger than I am."

"No," the AI corrected. "He was born nineteen years after you were. You are nine years younger than he is."

"Christ…"

It was hard to get used to timey wimey things like this one. Back before Anders had been attached to the _Spirit of Fire_ there had been absolutely no published papers by any Henry Glassman. That was not surprising considering that he had only been nine years old at the time. Now he was the preeminent scientist of the age, narrowly in second place behind a certain Catherine Halsey, traitor extraordinaire.

"Any progress on those secure servers?" Serina asked anxiously.

"I'm working on it," she replied. "It's a sure thing, but it will take some time for them to be shipped."

The hologram nodded.

"What do you need those for?"

"To make friends," Serina replied.

* * *

 **0215/3198 (Galactic Standard)/one week later**

 **Spectre Offices, Citadel, Widow System**

"FUCK!" Vasir yelled. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! FUUUUUUUCK!"

"What's with the theatrics?" Jondum Bau asked Saren.

The Turian Spectre shrugged slightly in response, the motion felt unnatural now that his left arm had been amputated at the shoulder. It hadn't been a pleasant procedure, especially considering how it had been done under battlefield conditions. He was going through some battle reports in the Spectre Offices before he was slated to have a combat prosthetic grafted to his body. The doctors had insisted that he stay in the hospital, but he had used his Spectre status to overrule all the security guards summoned to keep him in his room.

He was still bleeding from his stump. Just a little bit though.

"You have no idea why she's yelling?" the Salarian asked, his voice a lot slower and more deadpan than usual. It was very un-Salarian of him, and as such, humorous. Saren would've even let out a chuckle had he not been missing his right arm. Instead he gave Jondum a quick shrug before returning to the terminal to watch video after video and read reports.

"No idea?" the Salarian prompted again, curious as to why the powerful biotic would be misusing her powers to throw foldable chairs across the room.

"Knowing her she'll tell you soon enough."

Vasir left the firing range, fuming. She paced back and forth in a theatrical manner for a couple of minutes before eventually approaching Jondum.

"Yes?"

"Has this war made your job as shitty as it has made mine?"

"Probably," he replied. "Working overtime. Not enough intel. Informants scattered and scared. Same for you?"

"Yes! This is ruining months and months of carefully planned work! So many criminals managed to get away because all resources are directed away from ongoing investigations!"

"You're a Spectre, Vasir," Saren stated. "Just shoot them and move on to better things."

"World not that simple." Jondum interjected. "Repercussions probable."

"Never kill someone without a reason," Saren said. "You can always find a reason to kill someone. If it benefits the Council and the galaxy at large you'll get away with it. That's what we're here for, to operate above laws and treaties. We're not goddamned ground soldiers."

Jondum and Vasir stared at him.

"Is this because you lost your arm?" the Asari asked bluntly. "The Council may be misusing our skillsets, but we're still soldiers first and foremost."

"It's not just misusing," Saren told her. "Spectre casualties have increased at prodigious rates. We're not being used where we're most needed, we're being used where we're most likely to die."

"One might argue that is a Spectre's job," Jondum told him.

"But look at this," Saren said, pointing at the files with his missing limb. "Two dead Spectres, same engagement. They were sent in behind enemy lines with the mission to acquire intel on human positions. Sensible mission, right? Not so much when they needed to go through two armored legions with ground and air support. The two Spectres had no support of their own. They were caught and killed within an hour."

"Things like that happen all the time," Vasir said. "It doesn't mean it is good, but it's unavoidable."

"Here's the thing," Saren continued. "We won that battle. We were already winning it before the two Spectres were sent."

"Questionable strategic decision. Not for us to judge," Jondum said. "We serve at Council's discretion."

"Who put in that order?" Vasir asked.

"Tevos," Saren replied. "She's been very adamant about having Spectres moved towards the frontlines."

"I… have noticed," Jondum said. The Salarian took two quick breaths in quick succession before shaking his head ever so slightly.

The three Spectres simultaneously looked around to ensure that they were alone before huddling slightly closer.

"Tevos has been acting erratic," Vasir began. "Her and I got along fairly well, after all, she recommended me to become a Spectre. Lately though… She hasn't contacted me directly at all."

"Not big change. You are not pleasant dinner guest."

Saren actually chortled at that.

"But I digress. Tevos erratic. Usually she balances Sparatus and Valern. Good middle ground, diplomatic. Very… Asari of her."

"Yes, yes," Vasir said, rolling her eyes, "we know."

"But she practically sabotaged the peace talks herself," Saren jumped in. "She seemed to be looking forward to peace the most, but after that scientific vessel disappeared she just went crazy."

"She made some sensible demands," the Asari Spectre said.

"Sensible for pre-space travel race maybe," Saren muttered. "These… humans, have a civilization, they've been through wars and first contact already. They stand on equal ground with us even if their numbers are smaller."

"You can't expect to treat an equal like a child without them having a say in it," Vasir agreed. "Regardless, they fired first."

"Speaking of," Saren said, turning towards her, "have you made any process finding out the-"

"No!" she said. "That's why I was yelling earlier! I had a promising lead, but the war has everyone running in every direction. Informants have gone missing or have run away from the frontlines, others have taken advantage of the distraction and cut contact. Not to mention that I keep being ordered to partake in frontline actions and haven't been able to contact any of my sources in weeks!"

"It has to be a mercenary faction," Saren said. "That much we can be sure of."

"But who paid?" Jondum asked.

"No clue," Vasir said, shaking her head. "I was getting some promising leads, information pointing to fringe human space and the area under control of the so-called Covenant."

"And now?"

"And now I'm being reassigned to fight on one of the human worlds."

"Curious," Jondum muttered. "Valern and I have friendship. He put me on assignment early today. Said Tevos might want me fighting too."

"What are you doing?" Saren asked, his stump hurting through the painkillers. He was going to have to return to the hospital soon if he didn't want to have his thoughts interrupted by flashes of pain.

"Councilor Valern put me on search and rescue. I have to find Asari vessel." The Salarian paced around carefully. "Or missing fleet. Whichever I find first."

"My brother's with that fleet," Saren said. "He hasn't said anything to me since he told me he was gonna be deployed."

"I will try my hardest. Fleet disappeared in human space. Asari vessel did too. Not any assets there."

"Well, I guess you're just gonna have to try then," Spectre Vasir said. "From the comfort of a ship while I'm gonna be mudding it in the battlegrounds like some sort of infantry grunt."

Saren's mind briefly failed him as he went back in time a day. He saw himself running through the battlefield with several Turian SpecOps soldiers alongside him. His squad had effectively cut deep into the human lines and severed supply trains for key human positions. It had been a tough fight, the humans stood together and had incredible discipline. What had surprised Saren the most was the hatred with which humans fought. He had seen them ambush Turian patrols and actively aim for non-fatal zones. This wasn't necessarily unusual, the weird part came later, when the humans callously executed the wounded survivors up close. On the flip side, he had also seen human snipers leave wounded Turians and Asari lying on the ground for hours, screaming in horrible pain. If the wounded person stopped screaming they would shoot him or her again too prompt more screams. When the rescue attempt inevitably came, the human sniper would be more than ready to make life difficult for them.

His thoughts weren't really about the suffering comrades-in-arms that had fallen to the human soldiers, they were instead more focused on his own suffering. His squad was preparing to cross the street when their attached Asari commando had been hit through the chest with a sniper round. A second after the Turian soldiers were under heavy fire and their shields were flaring and failing. Only him and two others made it to cover. They lasted all of a minute before a pair humans in bulky black armor came in and blasted the SpecOps soldiers to bits with powerful shotguns. Saren had killed one and wounded the other, but just as he was preparing to fall back as fast as possible an even bigger human ambushed him, knocking him down and nearly shooting him in the head. Saren had barely had the presence of mind to activate a grenade and toss it at the large human. The Spartan, much like the prisoner held in the Citadel, was a tough creature to kill. Saren should've double-checked, because as he tried to outrun his own grenade he took three shots to the arm, starting at the elbow and finishing right below his shoulder.

Two hours later his arm had been amputated.

"Saren?" Jondum asked. "Saren?"

"Sorry," he apologized. "Arm is hurting."

"Or rather, the lack of it," Vasir chirped.

There were glares exchanged, but the three Spectres were too fatigued to actually do anything. They had all been furiously trying to give the Council something close to an upper hand on the war, but the human ships had a definitive superiority and they countered with Spartan units on the ground. The way things stood the Citadel races were outclassed at fighting, but they still had the advantage of numbers and materiel. The three of them would've preferred it if the fighting ended quickly and with a decisive victory for the council, not in a protracted war that could have terrible geopolitical consequences.

There was already talk about giving some Krogan clans preferred breeding rights in order to fight the humans!

No, Saren would return to whatever mission he was assigned to and wait while Jondum figured out what had happened to the missing Asari vessel as well as the fleet sent to track it down. Saren had a weird feeling that once that little side mystery was solved, some big things would happen. At least Tevos could stop acting like an immature vengeful prick for something that (as far as Saren could tell) she had no personal interest in.

"Must leave soon," Jondum said. "Ship ready. Captain not happy I'm taking command. Captain not happy I'm bringing in STG and Asari Commandos."

"No Cabals?" Saren asked.

"Biotics are covered. Besides, Hierarchy has been a bit selfish when sharing assets."

"I wonder why?" Saren muttered sarcastically.

"I am to return to the frontlines this afternoon," Tela said, sighing and rolling her head to crack her neck. "I should be fighting within the week. I've got a favor to ask."

Neither Saren nor Jondum said anything, but they both nodded their heads slightly.

"There have been some reports of raids and unrest in Terminus," she said. "My first thought was that the Hegemony was funding more slavers to take advantage of the chaos, but my assets have no confirmation or evidence of that happening."

"Batarians have centuries of experience at hiding illegal actions," Saren helpfully pointed out.

Vasir snorted. "Not like this. There are reports of wiped out stations and camps. Small things. Contact is being lost. It's nothing relevant in the scheme of things. A few dozen miners here, a couple of explorers there, some criminals and whatnot. The thing is that there has been a significant increase in unexplained group disappearances on the uncharted Terminus regions."

"And?" Jondum prompted.

"And we know it's not the humans."

"What about the human splinter factions?" Saren asked. "The insurrectionists?"

She shook her head. "It is possible but highly unlikely. What little intel we have on them suggests that they'd be seizing this opportunity to attack the central human government, not fuck around in unknown regions."

"Valid point," Jondum agreed with her. "Then what?"

"I don't know…" she admitted. "But I'm worried. The Shadow Broker has gone nearly silent. I think he's worried."

There was a couple of seconds of silence. Both male Spectres knew that Tela Vasir, biotic extraordinaire, had deep connections with the Broker as part of her job. Saren suspected that she had been involved in several ventures of dubious legality in order to inflate her bank account. He wasn't necessarily opposed to using his status to gain wealth, he actually did that fairly frequently, but consorting with a criminal broker was a different thing.

It had proven useful, however. Vasir had access to information that most people would kill to get. She didn't share it freely, but other Spectres could be pushy enough that she'd trade favors for information with them.

"Why are you telling us this?" Saren asked finally. "Whatever gang war is going on in Terminus is of no concern to us right now. If humans are not involved and the Batarians are not being assholes then how is it our concern?"

"It's not," she admitted. "Not yet. But like I said, this worried the Broker and as such it worries me. Keep an eye out Jondum, you'll be in the region."

"I'll make inquiries," the Salarian said.

Tela Vasir stood up and nodded at both of them. "Good luck with the arm."

Jondum looked at Saren as the Asari left and gave him a light shrug. Before any of them could say anything Jondum got a beeping message on his omnitool and had to leave as well.

"Good luck with the arm," the Salarian said.

* * *

 **June 7, 2559 (UNSC Calendar)/one week later**

 **UNSC** _ **Infinity,**_ **Slipspace**

Much like the entire sentient population of the Milky Way Galaxy, Captain Lasky was not in a good mood. Shit was going down in an unpleasant manner. Sure, engagements were being won left and right, a far cry from the years of the Great War, but engagements were also being lost at alarming rates as well. He believed that the scales were decisively tipped in favor of humanity, but the alien collective showed no signs of slowing down. Like every single UNSC officer had learned, the aliens had more than enough numbers to back up their aggression. Add this to their impressive technological achievements and you've got yourself a nice little clusterfuck. And that was without mentioning the fucking magic. Facing off the Prometheans at Requiem where they could teleport was one thing, but facing troops that could lift you up into the air and make you a sitting duck at any given time was a whole other game. The troops on board hadn't been terribly unhappy about the reassignment.

The _Infinity_ had been pulled from action in the frontlines in order to pursue 'Mdama. The Sangheili warlord had been MIA for most of the conflict with the Citadel races. Now he had chosen to reappear, hitting several small colonies with orbital bombardment. The strategy had been calculated to prompt the UNSC into action. 'Mdama had strafed high-population zones with his fleet, expending valuable resources on population centers as opposed to actually important targets.

But important was relative, as the deaths of tens of thousands of innocent civilians was something that the UNSC could not leave without punishment. Now Lasky found himself returning to his previous mission, to find and kill the most dangerous terrorist in the galaxy. All of this while the rest of the UNSC fleet fought a high-intensity war against a powerful collective of alien species.

It wasn't a pleasant situation, but now that 'Mdama had exposed himself Lasky and Co. were more than ready to chase him down. The _Infinity_ was accompanied by five _Autumn-_ class cruisers in addition to its own contingent of frigates, safely hidden in its belly.

It was in this kind of mindset that Spartan Naiya Ray, formerly of Fireteam Jackknife, talked with Spartan Shepard, tentative leader of Fireteam Crimson. The two ladies had barely been acquaintances a couple of months ago, but after fighting through the ambush and the not-so-botched assassination attempt back in the Citadel together they had bonded a little bit. The two women were exceptionally capable leaders, fighters, tacticians, and overall good Spartans. Not only that, but they consistently scored high in the Top 10 Hottest Chicks of the UNSC _Infinity_. Such lists were often present on the exclusive intra-ship network. No matter how often they were taken down or how much Spartan DeMarco was reprimanded they kept appearing here and there. The hot chicks in question tended not to mind terribly much. There was some talk of "objectification" and "disrespect" here and there, but there were also whispers of "satisfaction" and "not being ranked high enough."

But the two Spartans were not discussing their rankings in the latest list. They were discussing far more serious matters.

"'Mdama is drawing us in," Shepard asserted. "It's blatant."

"Maybe," Ray agreed, nodding solemnly. "But what he's doing cannot escape unpunished, Jane."

Shepard shook her head slightly. "You remember the Forerunner object? The Janus Key?"

Every Spartan and her mother knew about the Janus Key. It was classified, but the nature of this mission meant that the Spartans had been informed of the capabilities of the key and as such understood the power that came with it. The problem was that it had been decided to keep the half that humanity possessed on board the _Infinity._ The urgent nature of this mission, coupled with the war against the Citadel races, as well as the lingering presence of hostile Forerunner elements meant that humanity had to acquire the key as soon as possible, find some old Forerunner game-breaking technology, and whoop collective alien ass.

It was a simple plan, but Shepard and Ray weren't very happy with it, even if they disagreed about it.

"Well, that Key is dangerous. Once we get it… if we get it, then we'll have access to more destructive power than anyone has had since the Forerunners fell," Shepard said in hushed tones. "What then? What happens after we bring the universe to heel?"

"Nothing," Ray said. "Life will go on just like before."

"I don't think so, Naiya," Shepard said. "That much destructive power can only be used destructively."

"What makes you think that all we find will be destructive?"

Shepard tried not to roll her eyes. There really wasn't much that indicated that any surviving Forerunner technology was _not_ destructive in nature.

"Let's talk about something else," Shepard muttered. The thought of enough power to vaporize countless words much more efficiently than the Covenant had done was not something that she wanted to linger on or longer than she should. Her current mission made it hard to avoid thinking about it, but right now it was a bit too much.

"Have you heard the rumors?" Spartan Ray asked instead, a small smile on her lips.

This time Shepard did roll her eyes, but there was a mild grin on her face. She knew that Ray's background as a SIGNIT had given her a fair amount of contacts in the intelligence community, many of which she remained in touch with even now. Ray heard dozens and dozens of things from her little friends. She knew more than most Spartans did. She loved it; she loved subtly rubbing it in other people's faces.

"What rumors?" Shepard asked, playing along with it.

"About Cap."

Shepard's neck almost snapped from how fast she turned it. "What about Cap?"

Ray looked away. "I can't be sure it's him yet, but there's increasingly persistent rumors of an impending prisoner exchange. It could be anything, but this is high-level."

"Could it be someone else?" Shepard asked. To be honest, she didn't use to have a strong personal opinion on Cap one way or the other, but their entire column had remained a cohesive force just through Cap's sheer force of will alone. He had more experience than the rest of the Spartans put together. Shepard's pride had been a little bit hurt too. The later stages of the Battle of Requiem had seen her take on a more important leadership role within Crimson. As Cap's already mediocre abilities deteriorated to an almost pathetic level of incompetence Shepard had picked up the slack and kept Crimson as one of the most efficient Spartan units. Right up there with Majestic and Shadow.

And suddenly Crimson had found itself under a terribly well executed ambush with almost zero cover. Shepard had assumed that it would be her leading everyone through it. But she had panicked. She had panicked, even if only for a few brief instants. She called Scruggs being a hostile and then that was that. Everything went to shit and she let Cap take command. Not only had he done it efficiently, he had done it quicker than she thought he could've. Shepard wasn't mad at him in the least, but that didn't take form the fact that her pride had been hurt a bit.

Cap had excelled at tactics and combat during the ambush. Something which actually did piss her off, considering how he had been nothing short of incompetent the previous months. Suddenly he had decided that he wanted to start being a Spartan again and kicked everybody's ass just like that? What the fuck had prompted him to do that. Shepard was under the lingering suspicion that Cap simply hadn't been trying previously.

That actually made her mad at him. He had endangered his team countless times on Requiem out of sheer laziness. That or he had simply had an epiphany. Shepard really hoped it was the latter, for Cap's sake.

"Here's the thing, chatter has it that the prisoner is coming straight from the Citadel," Naiya said. "Freaking Citadel. Can you believe we haven't figured out where it is yet?"

"Actually?" Shepard asked, suddenly surprised.

"Yeah, something about the nebula," Ray said. "It didn't let us see where we were so we can't calculate the position using the stars, right?"

"Right."

"And the material that it was made of interfered with the QEC, so we were stuck without being able to transmit our position at FTL. We obviously sent beams everywhere, but we'll just have to wait for them to actually get somewhere before we can identify the location of the Citadel."

"And?" Shepard prompted.

"But I digress," Ray said, looking confused as to why she had swerved off topic. "There seems to be an impending prisoner swap. ONI is mobilizing, they're getting ready to pick out special prisoners to switch for whoever they'll trade us."

"Couldn't it be a group swap?" Shepard asked.

"No, chatter talks about a VIP."

Shepard pondered on the new information for a little bit. "Oh well, good for him I guess. I don't think that has any bearing on our mission."

"Aren't you thinking about what his impact will be on Crimson?" The leader of the now nonexistent Fireteam Jackknife asked her.

"No," Shepard lied. "Orders are orders."

"In any case," Ray continued, "it's unlikely they'll bring him on board before our mission is done."

"For better or for worse," Shepard agreed.

* * *

 **0247/3198 (Galactic Standard)/one week later**

 **Lutzen, Tsubasa, Sidekick Epsilon System**

Officer Garrus Vakarian had been an excellent soldier during his time with the Turian Armed Forces. He had been an excellent officer during his time with Citadel Security. That didn't mean much.

Turians were a curious race. The circumstances of their development as a society and their evolutionary pathway had produced curious results. At least to the outside observer, that is. To most other races, Turians were just like them except for their nearly fanatical devotion. It wasn't just devotion to their race, but just devotion for the sake of it. Turians were raised on duty and honor, almost indoctrinated to the point that oftentimes they struggled with life after compulsory service. They were like ants, they followed orders to a fault and their loyalty was unquestioned.

Then why were there still rebellions, mercenaries, and overall unpleasant Turians floating around the galaxy?

The leading theories (which were all put forward by Asari scientists, incidentally) were that the comparatively tough environment of Palaven as well as the predatory nature of the Turians' evolutionary ancestors made early Turian society a violent place. Survival was deeply ingrained in the cerebral cortex of the raptor-like Turians and oftentimes survival meant violence. They were dangerously alike to the Krogan in that sense, but the Turians were, for lack of a better word, not retarded. They valued martial ability highly and as such they valued their warriors much like other races had in their early development. The difference was that while most races came to outgrow this sort of admiration, the Turians simply replaced the admiration for warriors with a curious merge of admiration for martial leadership and martial skill itself.

Everyone wants to be a rock star, unless you're a Turian. If you're a Turian you want to be a respected Colonel with a lovely wife and two kids about to do their first tour of duty as junior officers.

Life was weird for Turians; at least that's what the rest of the galaxy thought. Turians themselves loved the sense of purpose and unity that came with serving the Hierarchy so dutifully. Not to mentioned the friendships and camaraderie.

Unfortunately, this predisposition to believe that Turians were excellent soldiers if underachievers in everything else was beginning to be mirrored by reality. The Hierarchy had even enlisted the Volus as their personal financial advisors/proxies. Sure, the Volus had cultural backgrounds that allowed them to have keen financial acumen, but to simply reject the notion of even _learning_ how to do your own trade had been a shocking development for both Turians and non-Turians.

Granted, that is what Asari scholars said, most Turians agreed that their theories were a load of bullshit, as they say. Not a small number of them went to bed and were unable to sleep for fear of those theories being true, but that's another matter.

Garrus was like every other Turian and like no other Turian. He dutifully followed orders to the letter, doing exactly what his superiors had told him to do. However, he also had this sense of superiority that he was unable to escape. To most of his friends he was a good guy, but the more and more they spent time with him the more they felt like Garrus thought them to be below him. Garrus believed himself primed for great things and acted as such.

Unfortunately, the low-ranking C-Sec officer had little to back his attitude up other than quality policing work, which is not necessarily the most impressive resume.

Granted, as soon as he returned from this blasted human planet to the Citadel he would definitely start doing the right thing. No more bureaucracy or corruption. No more kissing ass and avoiding pissing off his superiors. He would do what was right for him and for the people of the Citadel. However, first thing he would do was send a very strongly-worded letter to the Office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance to tell them to please get a certain Spectre Saren Arterius to go fuck himself and his entire family.

"Give me suppressing fire!" he shouted. "Get that shit off my ass!"

* * *

 **1 hour earlier…**

Saren paced. Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, pause, and repeat. He didn't usually pace, he usually stood tall with his hands clasped behind his back in a way that was flattering to his wide shoulders, made to look even bigger by the curve of his armor. He wasn't doing that this time because he hadn't fully mastered the exact arm position with his new prosthetic limb and also because for the first time in over a decade he was experiencing that terrible combination of fear and nervousness that soldiers tend to get well acquainted with. It was a simple prisoner exchange mission, but there was something wrong here. Jondum's messages had grown increasingly cryptic until they finally stopped coming two days ago. It had only been a week since the Salarian had taken off towards Terminus, but up until that point Saren had been exchanging correspondence three or four times a day with him.

"Sir! Human flagship is flagging us."

Saren cleared his throat and fixed his posture. He turned to face the holographic projector and nodded towards the communications officer.

"Spectre Arterius," a human greeted. He was clad in a grey uniform that Saren found strangely fashionable. There were noticeable bulges in the chest and shoulders that marked the presence of light armor plates, but the uniform looked exactly like what Saren thought an officer's uniform should. He waved those thoughts away and nodded in response to the greeting.

"Vice Admiral Cutter," he said. "I see you have agreed to move your ships."

"Aye," the human replied. "How is our man?"

"Healthy," Saren replied. "I cannot understand why our doctors worked so hard to save him, yet here we are."

"You might want to congratulate your doctors on that, you're getting a hundred men back in return for him."

"Good deal," Saren noted coolly.

"Yes, very good," Cutter replied, angering him slightly. "Our shuttles are ready to depart at your notice. I take it yours are as well?"

"Correct," Saren said.

"Very well then," Cutter smiled. "I'll send the first four. The next three will escort your vessel as it returns to your ship, having turned our prisoner over."

Saren nodded. Cutter was simply repeating the terms that had been agreed on a couple of hours earlier. The human was the image of professionalism, something that Saren appreciated after decades of dealing with rebels, criminals, mercenaries, and generally unlikable scum. At least a more civilized war was being fought.

 _Strange,_ he thought, _how we call this a civilized war where already hundreds of thousands of troops have died._

The next five minutes were spent in silence. Saren watched as the three human shuttles, nicknamed Pelicans, crossed the space in between the two lead ships, well outside of conventional and unconventional weapon range. The process was slow, but it was not uncommon. There was palpable nervousness in the air when the three vessels docked. Saren looked at the hangar cameras and examined the three ships as they turned their tails around before gently touching down. A crew of five armed soldiers approached the rear of each human vehicle, weapons ready yet pointed at the floor. The hatches slowly opened, nearly simultaneously. A human in armor with a rifle slung across his back hopped off each Pelican and gave the word for the prisoners to move out. The Turian prisoners were still in shackles, a calculated insult.

Saren ignored the angry mutterings of the bridge crew as the humans unshackled the Turian prisoners one by one. He waited until the official count of forty-two came back to him. Forty-two Turians, no other races present. There had been surprisingly few complaints from the Asari and Salarian councilors about the terms of this deal after Sparatus calmly offered to recite the ratio of casualties by race to his two colleagues.

"Very well," Saren said, mostly to himself. "Let's go."

He left the bridge of the ship and strode towards the hangar where his ship was waiting. Two Turian C-Sec officers immediately followed right after him. Both of them had distinguished themselves during the fuck-up that the peace talks had been, they had done an excellent job at fighting off the three separate diversionary attacks at C-Sec precincts. Not only that, but the two of them had also managed to survive the dangerously well-coordinated ambush in the citadel last morning.

Saren tried to get his mind to compartmentalize that. Someone had let it slip that the prisoner was being moved, but there were not a lot of people that knew that. There was him, the doctor, the councilors, and a few choice high-ranking officers. If someone had talked (which was the only explanation), then they were in trouble.

He failed at not thinking about the ambush. Already they were fighting against these humans and now they had to deal with a mystery mercenary group that seemed intent on destroying any and all shred of goodwill or cooperation that could exist between the two.

Right now he had to focus on his mission.

Saren marched through the vessel until he reached his transport shuttle. The human prisoner was already there, strapped with multiple different chains and locks. Dr. T'Soni and the vacuum suit rat that had somehow attached herself to his little party were already there and waiting for him.

"Doctor," he acknowledged the Asari. "Your presence is not needed."

"My mother has requested I partake in the proceedings."

"What about you, Quarian?" Saren asked.

"I'll be out of your sight soon enough, Turian," she replied, animosity clearly present in her voice.

"Board the ship," he ordered. "Vakarian, Grekoy, safeties off. Prisoner…"

The human shrugged and smiled before shooting a quick nod to Vakarian, who returned it slowly.

The human had saved Vakarian during the ambush. Even while wearing nothing more than a surgical robe and hospital slippers the prisoner had almost single-handedly fought back the ambush attempt. And he had done all that without even once trying to escape. Saren had been more than impressed, but watching footage of the human frightened him, this man had enough speed and power to crush a Krogan with ease. He bled though, which meant that Saren could at any point take out his HMWP Master Pistol and blow the human's brains out all over the cargo compartment of the transport shuttle. There was little reassurance in that small factoid.

"We're ready to go, sir," the vessel's pilot reported.

"Let's get this over with." As soon as the words left Saren's mouth there was a sense of impending doom.

"Sir…" Vakarian began.

"What?" Saren snapped.

"I…"

"Something feels off," the prisoner finally said.

"Well, if your friends try to double cross us then you're the one that will pay," Saren said, irritated.

"It's not them I'm worried about."

By that point the ship was already in the cold vacuum of space and it was too late to turn back. Saren remained calm and silent as the ship sped through the empty space and towards the human ship. About halfway through something big happened. No less than five dozen pings appeared on the navigation system.

"The fuck?" he exclaimed.

"Sir there-"

"I see them," Saren cut the pilot off. "Who are they?"

There was a couple of seconds of frantic key tapping followed by a sigh of relief. "The signature matches the IFF of the Eleventh Fleet," the pilot said. "Waiting on visual confirmation."

Before visual confirmation could be established the newly-arrived fleet took drastic action. It immediately separated into two and moved towards the human forces and the Citadel forces in what was clearly a battle formation. Saren barely had any time to curse before a bright red light cut across the black background of space. It lasted a solid two seconds and was accompanied by a minuscule flash way off in the distance that Saren recognized as a human ship going up in flames.

"Spirits," T'Soni muttered.

"What is-"

A moment later an equally bright flash cut through space only to reach the ship that Saren had just left. This time he was a lot closer and the shuttles instruments captured the complete and utter annihilation of the troop transport ship in high-definition. Saren looked awestruck at the sheer power of the laser weapons.

"Do we have visual?" he asked.

"Sir they look like our ships!" the pilot exclaimed, confused and more than a little scared. "They match the… ah shit, hold on!"

Saren knew better than to ask what the hell was going on before immediately sitting down. He barely had time to strap himself down before the ship started spinning in an attempt to evade pursuers.

"Go back to our lines!" Vakarian shouted.

"Can't! We're cut off!"

Saren cursed and so did everyone else in the shuttle. They cursed in frustration at their lack of power of the situation. Out of the corner of his eyes Saren saw in the monitor that human ships were moving forward to attack the newcomers and that the Citadel forces were doing the same thing, taking a surprisingly short amount of time to react to whatever was going on. Saren approved. If something is shooting at you then you shoot back, you can smooth over everything else later.

The little struggle lasted for about ten minutes. The pilot did everything in his power and more, driving the little mass effect engines to the brink of collapse in an attempt to keep the shuttle intact. They took some serious damage, but at no point did they start vacating atmosphere.

It wasn't until two T5 fighters that Saren had never been on the business end of showed up that the little dance ended. The two fighters pounded the weakened shields of the shuttle with heavy machine gun fire. The pilot skillfully avoided most of the impacts, but by that point the ship was going down. Saren screamed orders that he couldn't even hear over the sound of the alarms going off, but before he knew it the ship was spinning fast enough that his vision began to blur around the edges. He barely caught sight of the human planet getting larger and larger as the shuttle's spin increased in tempo.

* * *

"Give me suppressing fire!" Garrus shouted. "Get that shit off my ass!"

Immediately after he called for support his position was peppered with an incredible amount of fire that was redirected his way. He ducked underneath the remains of the small human building as the hostiles wore away at the surprisingly resilient rock walls. He popped out of cover as soon as the barrage subsided and fired a couple of bursts, both of which hit right above a window that had previously been occupied by what he could only describe as a pale imitation of what a Turian should be, a husk of his own race.

He had yet to catch a good glimpse of the hostiles, but he refused to believe that an entire Citadel fleet would turn against the Council for any reason. Defection didn't work like that. The times that he had considered abandoning his hapless job as a C-Sec officer he had been too afraid to tell anyone. He just couldn't believe that thousands of Turians would unanimously decide to actively work against Citadel interests.

 _Not only that, but they were also attacking the human troops…_

"Someone give me a fucking gun!"

Garrus ignored the prisoner, focusing on venting his heat sink in order to be able to fire. Everyone else also studiously ignored the human, as they were too busy trying to keep the enemy from flanking them through the small park on their right side. Garrus was a good shot, which is why he had been picked to specifically guard that side, but his assault rifle was less than appropriate for the mission at hand.

He popped out of cover and took out an advancing hostile. He watched with mild shock as the Turian went down, its entire midsection left a surprisingly bloodless mess. Before anything else could be said or thought a blast from a shotgun hit him. The range was too extreme for it to be lethal, but his shields were overwhelmed and he felt his head jerk backwards. Lying on the dusty ground with his helmet's display flickering he cursed. He could see only out of a minuscule hole in the helmet, to the right of his right eye. Light came in through that little hole as the electronic HUD failed before the helmet automatically kicked into base mode. The eye holes depolarized and finally let him see the ceiling of the room he was in.

What was left of it anyways.

"Just give me the-"

"One more word out of you, human, and I will put a bullet between your eyes," Saren replied, his voice dangerously angry.

Garrus let Saren focus on dealing with the brunt of the hostiles trying to swarm them. The Spectre had more experience as well as skill. That and he had gotten the Quarian to aid him by helping him rotate weapons, making him what was essentially a heavy gunner.

It was an effective strategy in denying any advance, but it cost them an additional source of fire. The Quarian had been very vocal in her opposition to this particular strategy, but in the end she had been overridden by not one, but four highly trained and armored Turians. The injured pilot had been left to guard the prisoner and she was stuck there taking the heaviest concentration of fire without the opportunity to actually defend herself.

"You obviously won't shoot me," the human shouted over the cacophony of noises. "And you're obviously about to be fucking overwhelmed!"

"You need to either fall back right fucking now or fall back right fucking now!"

"Our radio isn't working you fucking moron!" Grekoy called out. "Our best chance for survival is to stay here and wait for friendly evac."

"You see that sky?" the human asked. "You can see the nuclear detonations all over the place. That means that my buddies up there are kicking some serious ass, otherwise there wouldn't be any flashes."

That and Garrus had seen at least half a dozen ship carcasses burn up in atmosphere. They looked mostly like allied ships, but he couldn't tell if they belonged to the Eleventh Fleet or the one he had come here with.

Frankly, at this point, Garrus was too focused on his own safety to really care much about what was happening in orbit. Two small squads had bypassed his initial buffer zone and were now dangerously close to his own location. The bursts of fire coming his way were now flying by a lot closer than they had been before.

"They're closing in!" Garrus warned.

"Give me a fucking gun!"

It was precisely at that point that moment that they were hit with grenade launchers. The entire wall of the building was shaken as the explosions began tearing it apart. The useless transport shuttle had more holes in it than it did walls. The prisoner and the pilot were both struggling to keep their heads down in the cargo bay while the damaged ship barely kept them safe.

"Fuck!" Saren shouted in anger. "Give him a gun!"

"Finally!" the prisoner shouted. "Now watch and learn, you fucking dick."

Garrus wasn't sure that giving an angry human prisoner a weapon in this situation was a smart idea. Back in the Citadel the prisoner had absolutely no possibility of escape. The man would've needed an insane combination of luck and skill simply to get access to an FTL vehicle and then he would've had to navigate the relay network by himself.

Here, here he was in familiar land with hundreds of friendly units all around.

Well, odds were that they were going to die anyways.

* * *

 _Thanks to **Colonel-Commissar2468** for proofreading this chapter._

 _I will start off with apologies, which seems to be a common thing nowadays. Life has taken hold of me and writing is just not as big of a priority anymore. It is still my final goal to become a writer, worry not, but there's other things that take large chunks of my time now. I wish I had the same amount of free time as I did in highschool, but oh well. I'm sorry it took so long and I'll try to be better about it, but I can't make any promises._

I really, really hope you liked this chapter. Soon shit will happen. I keep promising you shit, but I don't deliver it. What can I say, I'm a teaser.

Stay strong.

-casquis


	6. Shift in the Paradigm

VI: Shifts in the Paradigm

 **June 15, 2559 (UNSC Calendar)/**

 **UNSC** _ **Yucatan,**_ **Lutzen, Tsubasa, Sidekick Epsilon System**

* * *

 _"No one expected our fiercest enemies to end up being the ones that helped us end the war, you know?"_

* * *

Vice Admiral James Cutter leaned forward against the main holotable in the bridge of his _Vindication_ -class light battleship. He looked like the image of concern and silent anger, especially with the brim of his cap so low over his eyes. The position of his shoulders and arms only enunciated what he felt.

That being said, the only reason he was there and not slouching on his command chair was because the battle that he had only just forced into a stalemate had left his ship with more damage than fit in a sheet of paper, even if you used the very small font. The battle had left his ship with nearly the entire starboard side venting atmosphere. The armor plates on that side of the ship had been peeled away by the lasers from the alien ship and then hit hard with the less powerful magnetic weapons from the alien fleet that came with it. Hundreds of men had died in the battle and hundreds more were injured.

Which explained why he wasn't slouching on his chair. An impact on his vessel had caused secondary explosions along the ship, one of which threw him off his chair and onto the floor, where a piece of panelling had slashed his left thigh open, leaving a bloody mess behind. The chair itself had been torn off its hinges and now he had to stand on a bad leg.

"Are we getting any radio contact now?" Cutter asked out loud.

"We've established secure and encrypted links with most of the fleet, sir," Carnival, the ship's AI, replied. "We're still securing contact with the rest of the vessels, but progress is improving."

"What are we at?"

"It wasn't good, sir. We've lost fourteen ships and five more are probably gonna have to be scrapped. Casualties are in the five digit scale and are only going to go up from there."

"What about Harper?"

"He's still engaged to the main Citadel fleet. Last transmission he had them turning around."

"Took him long enough," Cutter muttered.

"Well, when you're the leading naval tactician of the age expectations run a bit high."

"Leading naval tactician?" Cutter asked, gently running his hand over the bandages on his leg. "Harper?"  
The AI chuckled amiably. "Fleet Admiral Harper is the highest ranking officer in the UNSC Navy for a reason, Vice Admiral. He did not have Hood's vision nor political acumen or charisma, and he did not really match Cole's… well, genius. That being said, he came pretty close."  
"How so?" Cutter asked while he waited for the rest of his fleet to establish a secure communications network.

"You didn't read up on him?"

"His name popped up a couple times," Cutter admitted, "But I've been too busy trying to catch up to the last couple of decades."

"Reasonable," Carnival said with a slight nod. "He's a great tactician, but his long term thinking wasn't gonna cut it."

"Long term?"

"Long term as in more than ten years," Carnival said. "AIs much like myself crunched the numbers, they found a constant pattern on his battles. His casualty levels were low, but his line of thinking wasn't sustainable."

"What are you saying?"

"If humanity's production capabilities had been just a tad bit more impressive in the 40s then, with some luck, Harper may have been able to make the Covenant onslaught too costly for them to continue."

"How come Hood led humanity, then?" Cutter asked, really curious now.

"Because he was exactly what we needed. Tactical and strategic genius, incredible political acumen, and a magnetic personality that people found hard to resist."

"He wasn't always like that," Cutter said, his voice a tad bit lower than usual.

Carnival didn't say anything.

"It's sad to see him go," he finally added. "Humanity felt his passing."

"That's why war was hard to avoid, sir," Carnival said. "All ships now linked up with us, sir."

Cutter straightened his back despite the pain it caused his leg. "Start broadcasting orders. Relocate and establish a defensive perimeter over Lutzen and other neighbouring cities. We don't want our men on the ground to be bombarded from orbit."

"Right on it, sir."

"Get me a flotilla of frigates to run patrols around the planet… say in a triangular route, hitting L2, L4, and L5. If we can get enough for two flotillas we'll split the patrolling. The rest of the fleet I want concentrated here."

"What about the Citadel forces, sir?"

"Are they still hailing us?"

"Periodically," the AI replied. "Probably on a timer."

Cutter pursed his lips. He had been out of the freezer for a while now, and technically he hadn't fought in any war for a couple of decades, but in reality he only had a few scant months worth of peace before he was thrown back into the fray. Back in the day he was one of the most experienced human ship commanders. He had known war for a large portion of his life, but some of the men in command of ships had known nothing _but_ war.

He sighed. "Same thing?"

"Exact same thing."

Over the last months Cutter had lost six ships and several hundred men to the Citadel forces that were hailing him now, but in the last hours he had lost twice as many ships and men to the rogue faction. The Citadel forces had had it even worse than his own, they had taken the brunt of the assault and were now at less than thirty percent of their original strength.

"Patch me through, let's see what they want."

* * *

 **June 15, 2559 (UNSC Calendar)/**

 **Lutzen, Tsubasa, Sidekick Epsilon System**

"So I guess we're not getting that reassignment, eh?" Spartan Edward Buck asked. His assault rifle was so battered that he had been forced to remove most of the outer protective casing after his gun kept jamming. His MA5 now looked more like the skeletal carbine of the version except uglier.

"Quiet," Locke whispered, "Movement left."

"Cits or 'borgs?" he asked his squad leader.

"Unclear. At the ready. Tanaka, you see them?"

"Got their position," she replied. "They're behind cover though."

"Buck, Vale, start moving, flank them," Locke ordered.

Buck nodded and quietly moved back before linking up with Spartan Vale. She had taken some heavy fire in the last weeks and her armor was scarred on the left side of the chest and all the way down to the hip. She had countless other scratch marks on her arms and legs, but miraculously she had not yet been hurt with anything worse than bruises.

"I'll take point," he told her. "Watch my six."

The young Spartan nodded.

Buck had been fighting for a long time, but he had never quite gotten used to fighting as a Spartan. It wasn't that the augmentations made it difficult for him, quite the opposite. It was the fact that he felt like he was fighting with strangers. He saw and talked with the members of Fireteam Osiris on a daily basis, yet he never stopped feeling like they were anything more than colleagues. To him they were just people who he happened to work with. They weren't his brothers in arms like his previous squad had been.

 _Back in Mombasa… those were the days._

It's hard to believe that any human yearned for the days where the species was closest to going extinct, yet somehow Buck found himself wishing to be fighting alongside Romeo, Dutch, and the Rookie. God, he missed that kid. He knew that nothing could be the same again, Rookie had died, Dutch had retired, and Mickey had betrayed everything that he had once stood for. Nope, Osiris was pretty much all he had, Alpha-Nine was never coming back together.

"Check left," he muttered, preparing to cross the street.

"Copy that," Spartan Vale replied, raising the barrel of her rifle ever so slightly.

"Buck, you in position?" Spartan Locke asked him.

"Just about," he said, preparing his rifle. "I don't see the hostiles anywhere."

"They're there," Locke assured him.

Just as the squad leader finished that statement Buck saw movement on his motion tracker. He barely had time to react before eight or so humanoid creatures swarmed him. He backpedalled furiously as the hostiles chased after him. His eyes didn't really process what was going on and instead he decided to fire full-auto into the mass of flesh. A four second burst was all it took to bring down the attackers, but by that point his position was exposed and he had little real support from Vale. A barrage of gunfire sent him diving for cover and pinned him down.

"Shit," he muttered. "They got through my sensors!"

He didn't get an immediate reply, instead his squad mates fired their own weapons. Buck started panicking when he realized that the gunfire wasn't flying in the direction of the enemy, but backwards into their own positions.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked loudly.

"We're getting swarmed!" Locke shouted. "Buck, get out of there!"

"What the hell are those?" Tanaka exclaimed. "They look human!"

As soon as he heard that Buck looked down at the hostiles that he had just shot. They did indeed look human in appearance and proportionally wise. As he examined them closer he noticed that they had the same bluish hue that the 'borg newcomers had. They looked like they had been sucked dry of any real flesh and filled up with cybernetic replacements.

They looked like empty human husks.

And that's when Buck started to panic.

* * *

"What makes you what you are, human?" Spectre Arterius asked. "Why are you so much larger, stronger, and faster than other humans?"

"It's classified."

"What does that mean?" the Quarian, Tali, asked.

The group moved in silence at a rather breakneck pace. Garrus had gone through the rigorous conditioning program that all Turians went through, but no matter how much he trained in his spare time, he was never going to be in the same condition as he had been back then. As he struggled to breathe in as much of this planet's oxygen as possible he wondered how the hell Saren managed to keep moving and hold a conversation at the same time. He had long since stopped questioning the human's ability to carry the injured shuttle pilot on his back while leading the little group of survivors through the unknown land.

"It means it's none of your business, bucket-head," the human replied. "Pick up the pace."

"Bucket-head," she said. "I've never heard that one before."

"My guess," Saren began, "and it's really not a guess, it was the fine doctor's conclusion-"

"Quiet," the human said, crouching and looking over his shoulder. The entire group followed suit almost immediately. The human was not only stronger and faster, but it was becoming painfully clear that he had better sight, hearing, smell, and spirits knew what else. "Ok, let's move, we should reach that tree line before nightfall."

"Is that you're a mutant," Saren continued. "Artificially made so."

"Where is the good doctor anyways?" the human asked. "Doctor?"

"I'm back here," she said, breathing hard. "I'm… oh spirits…"

"Try and keep up, good doctor," the human ordered. "We've got another hour of this."

"Another hour?" T'Soni exclaimed, the dismay apparent in her voice. "How are you doing this, Tali?"

"Increased the oxygen levels in my suit," the Quarian replied. "It does the job."

"Ah, that's good," T'Soni replied in between breaths.

"So what is it, human?" Saren pressed.

The gigantic man in question chuckled. "Something like that."

"So you're a freak of nature then. Were you born that way?" Grekoy asked. "Or were you made that way?"

"I'm what humanity needs me to be," the human said, voice suddenly solemn. "Freak or otherwise."

The response was unexpected. Up until this point the human had been nothing if not snarky and dry. It was to be expected, he had been a prisoner of war and technically still was. Working to save his captors was probably not the easiest thing on him.

"There's a small grove up ahead," the human said. "We can take cover and rest for a few minutes there."

Garrus could hear the mental sigh that everyone let out. As soon as they were safe within the cover of the trees the doctor let herself plop down to the floor and the Quarian followed suit, trying to appear a little bit more dignified. Grekoy and himself paced back and forth slowly before stopping, taking in deep breaths to try and oxygenate their blood. Garrus shot a sideways glance at Saren, who seemed to be having no trouble with their little hike.

"Do you know where you're taking us?" he asked the prisoner.

"Away from those things," he replied. "And towards UNSC lines."

"You do realize our lines are in the way," Saren remarked.

The human shook his head. "Not likely. You saw the sky earlier today. Something large is going down near the city. The UNSC has permanent fortifications and reliable supply trains. After the ass-kicking your fleet received you'll be lucky if there's any semblance of order there."

"Turian lines don't break," Grekoy informed him.

Garrus' chest puffed slightly. He knew those words to be true.

"True military genius lies not in rigidity," the human said, "but in knowing when to bend, when to break, and when to stand firm."

"What does a genetic freak know about strategy and tactics?" Grekoy asked.

"I've been fighting for longer than you've been playing with yourself at night," the human assured him, "I've saved your ass a fair amount of times since you were assigned to guard me. You'd do well not to doubt my knowledge."

"Let's just relax," Doctor T'Soni said, still breathing hard. "How's our pilot?"

"Still delirious," Garrus said. "If we don't get him to a doctor soon…"

"He's stabilized," the Asari assured him. "We bought him at least two more days."

"If we're not within friendly lines by the end of the day then we might as well all be dead," the human said.

"How come?" Grekoy asked.

Saren turned around. "Those things were sending landing craft by the boatload. They weren't just going to stay in orbit."

"You have interesting friends," the prisoner said.

"Those things were changed," Garrus told him. "They weren't Turian."

"They look just as ugly to me," he replied. "Ok, ready to go? There's a couple of hours left before we're safe. They're getting closer."

"You can hear them, human?"

"They're getting closer."

* * *

 **Two hours later**

"Move!" Saren shouted. "Move!"

A burst whistled past Garrus' head. He turned around and shot back. The range was extreme, nearing two kilometres, but the complete lack of cover meant that they had to keep at least some pretence. The doctor had found more air and Grekoy had been tasked with carrying the pilot. The prisoner had taken Garrus' rifle and was now lying in wait. The range between him and the pursuers was now considerably less than two kilometres, but Garrus hadn't heard the snap of his rifle fire back. He turned back around and kept running. Grekoy was in the lead by about a hundred meters, but the man was tired of carrying an unconscious comrade on his back. A few dozen meters behind and to his left were the doctor and the Quarian, while Saren was about a stone's throw away from Garrus, firing sporadically much like he had been doing.

"He's gonna dip," Garrus muttered. "I gave him my rifle and he's gonna take off."

Garrus could barely see the enemy silhouettes in the distance. The sun was behind them, so it illuminated them against the edge of the short ridges. He could see the little muzzle flashes through his eye piece, but ducking could save his life or ruin it. Thankfully his shields were still working, at half power, but they could stop a random impact, especially at this range.

"Vakarian, move!"

It was only then that Garrus saw the two A-61 Mantis gunships bearing down on them. They looked heavily damaged, but it didn't take a pristine-looking craft to put three fist-sized holes through your torso.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!"

Suddenly everyone was a lot stronger and a lot faster than they had been seconds ago. The gunships sped up slightly as Garrus heard his rifle crack. He looked over his head to see one of them crash down hard, presumably from a hole to the cockpit window. Garrus didn't have a lot time to process the extraordinary feat of marksmanship as the other gunship was well on its way to turn him into chunks of Turian.

"Get down!"

Little puffs of dirt and dust popped out of the ground in twin lines. Garrus said a quick prayer of thanks, had the pilot not fired early he would have been dead. Instead he had enough time to dive sideways. He heard the whistling of the bullets and felt the impact on the ground, but not a single one of those touched him. He looked back to see Saren open up on the gunship from the side, clearly out of the attack vector. The doctor and the Quarian started running sideways and Grekoy jumped out of the attack vector just in time to save his ass and the pilot's.

"It's turning around!"

This time the Mantis didn't speed through the strafing manoeuvre. It simply turned around and slowed down a bit. Garrus realized that the gunship had no shields, which is why the prisoner had been able to bring it down so easily. He fired at it, but it was still moving far too fast for an accurate shot. Saren was shooting too, but the little puffs of dirt were getting dangerously close.

Garrus heard an unfamiliar whistle and was thrown back slightly as the gunship was torn to pieces. The ridge where the pursuers had been moving on was lit up by countless explosions and silence fell. Garrus watched as three grey ships moved in on his position. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of the prisoner standing up and waving at the human ships.

"Sir?" he asked Saren.

The Spectre looked back at the trees, it was one hell of a run. There was no way they would be able to outrun another gunship. Besides, the pilot still needed medical attention ASAP.

"We let them take us in," Saren said. "Shit."

* * *

Spartan Locke walked with a purpose. His armor was dented and scratched from the last couple of days' worth of fighting. He could feel the soreness in his joints and muscles coming, but he knew that there was no end in sight for the battle. His team moved behind him, their new weapons held in front of their arms. He didn't slow down when a tired-looking major hailed him and began walking next to him.

"Spartan Locke, General Oakes wants to talk to you, they're going over a sitrep and plan of action with Cutter."

"Lead the way, sir," Locke said, his voice a deep rumble.

The four Spartans looked like they had been thrown into a washer full of bricks. They certainly felt like it too, but they couldn't hold a candle to some of the Marines and soldiers on the streets. The fighting had been tough before, but the arrival of a new enemy had not helped matters much, especially considering how much confusion it had caused.

Casualties had gone through the roof and with Navy suffering their own ass-kicking in orbit they couldn't evacuate their men. Supplies were still good; the UNSC had half a dozen bases in the planet, most of them concentrated within the city of Lutzen and its surroundings. They had enough resources to supply a defence of the city for another year or so without any outside support. Locke wasn't sure if they had enough men to defend it for more than a couple of weeks, not with the way things were looking.

"Spartans," General Oakes, said, waving them inside his temporary command center. "Come in, Admiral Cutter will be joining us shortly."

"Where's Colonel Ramoutar?"

"He was killed during the attacks," Oakes said. "Army is still trying to gather itself, they took most of the punishment."

"Ah," Locke said.

As if on cue, Vice Admiral James Cutter appeared on the room's holographic projector. He looked pretty ragged, with his face exhibiting lines consistent with high levels of stress and tiredness. Some people hated on the Navy due to its lack of more direct combat, but over the Great War the UNSC Navy had taken the worst casualties in the entire military. There were still jokes about it for sure, but everybody understood and respected just what the sailors in the Navy went through.

"Admiral," Locke said in unison with Oakes.

"General, Spartans," Cutter replied. "At ease. I want a full report."

"Yes, sir. The newcomers came in hard and fast. The ceasefire didn't mean that we weren't prepared for combat, but they just came in huge numbers. Army took a huge hit; they had to deal with the initial assault and the two follow-up waves. They're dealing with a 60% casualty rate and most of their vehicles and materiel were lost in the assaults, but they bought us enough time to mount an effective defence. We've had no reports of combat with the Citadel forces ever since the newcomers showed up, but our scouts report that they had to pull back to avoid being overwhelmed by the newcomers. As of right now our forces control the downtown area of Lutzen as well as the entire northern side of the city and its outskirts. The Citadel forces had to pull out of the city, aerial recon shows they've entrenched themselves in the south-eastern suburbs and don't seem to be moving."

"What about the newcomers?" Cutter asked.

"We've stopped being attacked, but we have reason to believe that they control the entire southern sector of the city as well as several points around it," Oakes replied. "We're not in the best position right now, but we've seen worse. We'll pull through."

"Good," Cutter replied. "Navy took a hard hit, but we managed to deter the newcomers from obtaining orbital supremacy. They're still a threat, but we can keep them from attacking Lutzen and the surrounding areas. We're still assessing all our damage and losses, but we'll be able to start transporting the wounded up to our vessels and back to safe space."

"How long is that going to take?" General Oakes asked. "We have a lot of wounded here."

"It shouldn't be more than a few hours, six at the most," Cutter replied. "We will be working as fast as possible, General, but we have our own casualties and damage to deal with."

"Of course."

"You mentioned that Spartan Locke had some first-hand intel on the newcomers?"

"Yes, Admiral," Locke responded. "We encountered the newcomers at first and confused them for Council troops. Our first encounter was against a squad of Turians. We confused them for a special unit on account of their unusual look. We assumed it was just different armor at first, but closer examinations showed that the metallic plates are embedded into their bodies. Grafted would be the right word. They performed at a similar combat level as the Citadel regulars, but they didn't lose unit cohesiveness. Another thing we noticed is that they didn't really seem to care for their survival much, instead simply focusing on getting the kill at all costs. We had a couple of close calls before we realized that they were completely unafraid of death or injury."

"That sounds… that sounds exactly like the vessels we faced. They had about the same performance as the Citadel ships, but when it came down to it, they took way more damage than any sane commander would've allowed," Cutter said.

"In addition we encountered another type of enemy," Locke continued, slightly apprehensive. "We found human-looking… well, I don't want to call them zombies, but they appeared to have the same kind of modifications as the Turians, except no weapons or armor of any kind. They looked like someone butchered a corpse and filled it with tubes and cables."

"Sorry Spartan, you lost me at zombies."

"Perhaps it's the wrong word, sir," Locke began.

"I assure you it isn't," Spartan Buck interjected. "Admiral, their behaviour fell in line with what you'd expect a zombie to do. For the most part that is. They use swarm tactics and possess no weapons other than their bare hands. That being said, they don't bite you or try to turn you, instead they simply attempt to maul you to death."

"That would explain the bruising on the side of your face then?" Cutter asked the old Helljumper.

"Yes, sir," Buck said. "They hit as hard as Elites do."

"Admiral, that information is concurrent with our observations as well," General Oakes said.

Admiral Cutter shook his head and chuckled. "Just our luck, first we have to deal with space wizards and now we come across space zombies."  
There were some smiles in the room, but Spartan Locke noticed that when Cutter mentioned space zombies his previous chuckle and smile disappeared and transformed into a scowl, but just as quickly his face adapted a neutral expression.

"Is there anything else that you've found out about these… newcomers?"

"No, sir," Spartan Locke said. "Nothing concrete yet. They've been fighting at a range and their bodies have been either purposely destroyed by their allies. We have not been able to bring one back for further analysis."

"We're working on capturing some specimens," General Oakes added. "Some of my men already started a competition to see who can give them the best codename."

To that, Locke couldn't help but smile a little bit. Marines were Marines.

"I'll forward this to UNSC HQ and ONI. They'll analyse all data that we have," Cutter said. "For now we hold down the fort and wait for orders or reinforcements. Or both. Names will come soon enough."

"Sir," Locke said, nodding.

"Spartan Locke, the op that you were requested for is still green, that much is clear," Cutter began saying as a low-ranking officer handed Oakes a datapad.

"Obviously, current circumstances make it hard for your team to be exfiltrated, but Osiris can expect redeployment at any moment."

"Yes, sir," Spartan Locke replied.

"I just got some news," Oakes said. "Remember the shuttle that was shot down en route to the _Yucatan,_ sir?"

"The one with the prisoner?"

"Correct, Admiral. It was spotted a few dozen kilometres southwest of here. Drone imagery showed a hard landing, but the vessel itself remained mostly intact."

"Survivors?"

"None were found at the crash site, but there was plenty of evidence of a firefight, including newcomer corpses."

"Get to the point, General," Cutter said snappishly.

Oakes tilted his head slightly in apology. "A Pelican picked up the Spartan and five Citadel aliens. Three Turians, and Asari, and a… Quarian, I believe they are called."

"Quarian?"

"The ones with the bucket heads," Oakes said.

Vice Admiral Cutter's hologram fiddled with his own datapad before finding what he was looking for. Presumably a picture of what a Quarian looked like. "Ah… what the hell is a non-Council alien doing here?"

"They're en route," Oakes said. "Apparently they cooperated with the Spartan in order to survive."

"Treat them nicely," Cutter said, almost sighing. "If these newcomers are more than an isolated incident we might find ourselves fighting alongside our enemies."

"Now why does that seem like a recurring theme?" Buck asked, rolling his eyes.

"Let me know how it goes," Cutter said. "I have pressing matters to tend to."

"Admiral," Oakes said. "Good luck."

"Likewise, General. Spartans."

"Sir," Fireteam Osiris replied in unison.

Cutter gave one last nod before the hologram disappeared.

"You found a Spartan?" Locke asked immediately. "One of ours? An S-IV, I mean."

"He identified as such."

"I'd heard rumours," Spartan Vale said, "about a high-level prisoner in the Citadel itself, but I never suspected it was a Spartan."

"No wonder we gave them so many during the ceasefire," Tanaka muttered. "A Spartan in their hands? God knows what they've learned from him."

"What's this Spartan's name?" Buck asked, scratching the back of his head.

Oakes glanced down at the datapad. "One Spartan Francisco Castillo."

Buck and Locke glanced at each other before letting out a brief chuckle.

* * *

"Wait, so who is he again?" Vale asked Buck.

"Castillo," Buck replied, chuckling slightly at the name. "When you spend a long time in the SpecOps community you start hearing some names tossed around more often than others. It seems natural, right? The more skilled ones get a better reputation and their names are eventually associated with… well, skill I guess."

"The UNSC Armed Forces are pretty damn large," Tanaka said, intrigued by the conversation. "Do a lot of people really know his name?"

"The right kind of people," Buck said. "In the SpecOps community. I certainly heard his name dropped around a lot."

"I still don't believe you," Tanaka said flat out.

Buck laughed and shrugged. "Who's the Master Chief?"

The Spartan rolled her eyes. "Only the greatest soldier that ever lived."

"And who knows his name? Or alias, at least."

"Every human alive," Vale said, looking thoughtful.

Buck looked at the two younger Spartans. They were a lot younger than he was, but Vale certainly took the cake. She was in her early twenties, Buck didn't remember her exact age, but she looked like she should've been wearing a cap and gown instead of high-tech armor. Buck had once been that age, but it seemed like it had been such a long time ago. Tanaka didn't really look that much older, but there was something about her face that made her seem more weary, more experienced.

"And what is Castillo if not a soldier?" Buck asked. "Well, a Marine technically. A lot of people knew his name."

"So he was that good, huh?" Tanaka asked, seemingly convinced. "How come I never heard about him?"

"I wouldn't know," Buck admitted. "But his name is tied to legendary events and operations. He's one of the greats."

"Who else are these so-called greats?" Vale asked.

Buck leaned back on his chair, feeling it creak. "Hmmm… Johnson, definitely Avery Johnson. Castillo comes to mind. Marcus Stacker, Silva, but he was more of a commander type, not a fighter. Nezarian, I actually heard Palmer's name dropped a couple of times before she became a Spartan, but she skipped most of the big name parts. She only had a few very impressive ops."

"A few?"

"Less than five," Buck said. "That's not enough to get you into the greats."

"What about our noble boss?" Vale asked with a smile.

"Locke was a spook back in the day. And he was damned good at it too, because I never heard his name until I was assigned to his team."

"So these greats consist of five, maybe six people total?"

"Kagawa, Reznov, Liu, Diaz, and Singh maybe. It was a small group."

"I heard the name Edward Buck dropped fairly often," an unfamiliar voice said.

The three Spartans turned around to look at the newcomer. The former prisoner was standing just past the door with Locke flanking him. Locke was still wearing his undersuit and a pair of fatigue pants. Castillo was wearing green cargo pants and a standard grey shirt with short sleeves. Apparently they had already tried to get him some armor, but people didn't just carry crates full of MJOLNIR in case a random supersoldier popped up.

Frankly, he looked like an incredibly massive man. Like most Spartans he stood at about seven feet high and his weight was hovering somewhere around the 300 pound count in account of his dense muscle and bone. As an alpha male Buck couldn't help but give him a once over. He concluded that Castillo was slightly shorter than he was, but probably packed a little bit more power in account of the width of his back and shoulders. It was a game that Buck never got tired of playing, because like all men that became Spartans, he had a low-key obsession with being a more perfect physical specimen than the rest of his beloved colleagues.

"Castillo," Buck said, standing up and shaking his hand. "Your reputation precedes you."

"As does yours," he replied. "And call me Frank."

"As you wish," Buck said. "These are Spartans Vale and Tanaka."

"Hey."

"Yo."

"Ladies," Frank acknowledged. "Christ, they keep getting younger…"

There was a shared chuckle between Buck, Locke, and Frank.

"It's always the boys club," Tanaka said dramatically, rolling her eyes.

Locke was always no-nonsense and this time was no exception. The former ONI operative wasn't above letting his soldiers have moments where they could feel normal, but at the moment he had bigger priorities than that. Buck took a small step backwards and let the squad leader do his thing. He didn't even have to wait for Locke to actually say anything, he had commanded his own squad long enough to know what was going to happen.

"Castillo, we do need to get whatever information you may have gotten during your time in the Citadel."

"Of course," Frank said, sitting down on one of the metal chairs. "You gonna record this?"

Locke produced a datpad. "Of course. You three can stay, the information will be useful."

"Sir," the Spartans replied.

"Castillo, you ready?" Locke asked.

Buck made himself comfortable, he had been debriefed numerous times in his career, but he had never been debriefed in a situation quite as unique as this one. Castillo had first-hand knowledge of the Citadel Council society, especially considering how much time they had spent interrogating him. The UNSC hadn't been fortunate enough to have that kind of intel in the short months that the war had lasted. Now they had one of humanity's best, which meant that they had that much more information.

"You were held prisoner for… a month and a half," Locke began. "You said you were held in the Citadel?"

"Correct," Castillo replied. "Single person cell, adapted to fit me. I got two sets of clothes and medical care. No shoes, the food was shitty, but edible."

"No free time, nothing like that?"

He shook his head. "I wasn't afforded such luxuries. I think they treated me too nicely as it is."

Locke nodded. "What did they do while you were imprisoned."

"They started by stabilizing me," Castillo said. "After they cut me out of that rod they stitched me up and pumped me full of this gel. It seemed to work just like biofoam, helped seal up the wound."

"Your armor?"

"They cut it off while I was unconscious."

"So they weren't able to get any information out of it?" Locke asked.

Castillo shook his head with a smirk. "They were pretty angry about that. Two scientists were killed in the explosion."

Buck allowed himself a small smile.

"After that there was some talk of execution," Castillo said, "but cooler heads prevailed."

"What happened after that?" Locke asked, putting the datapad on the table, still recording, and leaning back a little bit.

Castillo sighed. "A lot of things. They took a curious approach when interrogating me."

"Which was?"

"The Asari that I was with, she's an…archaeologist. An archaeologist, but for aliens. They have their own predecessors, they call them Protheans, I think, but I suspect that they might be the Forerunners themselves."

"We've heard the term tossed around," Buck interjected. "It seems like they're the ones that built the relays."

"So not the Forerunners…" Castillo said. "It's weird, I can't really picture a civilization flourishing to that level in such a short amount of time…"

The Spartans looked at each other uncomfortably. Not a lot of people had the knowledge that they had. Not everybody knew that humanity had been a powerhouse civilization long before recorded history began. It was an uncomfortable thing to think about, that a civilization that had spanned solar systems and had rivalled the Forerunners themselves had been dismantled to such an extent that no evidence remained of that. It was scary because now they knew that doing something like that was possible, but humanity's enemies had no interest in letting them come back another time.

"By their own records the Protheans existed about 75,000 years ago, that means that they would have risen to prominence soon after the Forerunners disappeared," Castillo went on. "I just assumed it was technology that came before the Forerunners."

"The relays are an enigma," Locke admitted. "We've found nothing like them outside of the technology that the Citadel uses, yet somehow they link the entire galaxy."

"That's for brighter minds to figure out," Spartan Vale said, nudging the debriefing back on track.

"Correct," Locke agreed. "Tell me more about this Asari."

"Ah the good doctor," Castillo said with a smile. "She's got the equivalent of a Ph.D. Smart girl, nice. Definitely prettier than any elite I've ever seen."

"Did she treat you the way the Sangheili treat their prisoners?"

"No," Castillo replied. "She's smart, she got some information out of me. General stuff about humanity, history and minor details like that. I'm sure that our conversations were all recorded and analysed by dozens of psychologists and analysts. I tried to garner some information, but I didn't have the luxury of re-watching past conversations."

"Did you give away any classified information?" Locke asked.

"Not that I am aware of. They figured out that I'm not your average human, but they aren't sure about the story behind that. The doctor certainly asked about that."

"Anything that you believe they might know about that?"

Castillo shrugged slightly. Buck noticed that his heavily tattooed left arm had things he recognized. It had the famous Legendary Symbol, both the original and the variation with a human skull. On the forearm there was a knife as well as three small drawings. A scroll circled them all and words in Latin filled it up. He could see the bottom of the upper arm ink, but the shirt didn't let him see what exactly the design was. Castillo had the formula for Titanium-A, curiously enough, tattooed onto his upper forearm as well. It was an interesting tattoo, but not nearly as telling as the numbers on his right forearm. Serial numbers, and a whole bunch of them. Buck had seen many comrades die, but not that many.

"They know it's biological augmentation," he said. "They look down upon it."

"Sounds like someone I know," Tanaka joked, elbowing Buck's arm.

"Not all Helljumpers are like that," Buck replied.

Castillo smiled slightly, but it was an uncomfortable smile. Buck could see the turmoil in the man's eyes. It hadn't been an easy decision for him either. He had struggled with the thought that all his skills and strengths were no longer his alone. He had cheated to get to where was now. As a Helljumper he had depended on his ability and that alone. Weapons and armor yes, but nothing more than that. He had been a normal human and now he was… well, a Spartan.

"What else can you tell me about your time there?" Locke asked.

"Not much. I don't know exactly what was going on outside of my cell. They'd occasionally reward me with some piece of information about the war, but for the most part I relied on the questions in order to understand what was happening. It wasn't good being in the dark."

"What did you learn about them?"

"I had a small sample size. I only interacted with less than a dozen or so. There were a few doctors at first, the medical kind, but they never spoke a word to me. Then there was Saren, one of the three Turians with me. He's top tier, dangerous. I've never seen anyone move as fast as him. He shoots almost as well as I do and I'm positive he's had no augmentations. I've only ever seen two people fight with that level of skill that are not Spartans."

"Who?" Spartan Vale asked.

"One of them is myself," he replied. "The other one died a few years ago. I wish I knew how he was taken down."

"So we have a highly skilled soldier then?" Locke asked. "Not Spartan level, you said?"

"No," Castillo replied. "Not on the physical aspect, at least. But if there are more with his level of training, which there are, I'd be careful around them."

"Sir, Saren might be one of those Special Unit soldiers that we've been encountering," Spartan Vale said. "He seems to fit the profile."

"Maybe," Locke said, "for now we'll continue the debrief."

Vale nodded in acknowledgement and leaned back in her chair, listening intently.

"The other two Turians?"

"Garrus Vakarian and something Grekoy, both of them belong to C-Sec, the police force that defends the citadel. I assume you were briefed on them?"

"Yes. Armed militarily and trained pretty well. I assume these two are cut above the rest since they were handpicked for the mission."

"What can we expect from them?" Locke asked.

"Same that we can expect from any captured enemy combatant. Subversion."

"Is that a word?" Buck asked.

"I don't think so," Tanaka replied.

"Does it matter?" Castillo asked. "They're both highly skilled soldiers, Vakarian, the taller one, has pretty good accuracy with a sniper rifle."

"What about the others?" Locke asked.

"The pilot was unconscious most of the time, doesn't seem like much, but he landed us safely."

"And the females?"

Castillo leaned back and sighed. "I already told you about the doctor. She knows her way around a handgun, but she's not a trained soldier. That being said, her biotics are incredibly powerful, she slammed around some rather large enemies with ease."

"What about the other one, the Quarian?"

"I don't know man," he replied. "I have no clue how she ended up on the team and to be honest she's probably a little bit of a liability in a combat situation. No training and her common sense leaves a little bit to be desired, however she does have enough skills to warrant concern… Did you take her glove thing?"

"They call them Omnitools," Buck helpfully said.

"No one told me that," Castillo muttered.

"We removed pretty much everything that we could. The Quarian keeps complaining that she needs hers to monitor her suit systems, but we already gave her enough leeway by letting her keep her suit."

"We let her keep the suit?" Tanaka asked, moderately surprised.

Locke just shrugged.

At that point the debriefing got increasingly technical and Locke simply read questions that he was obviously told to ask from the datapad, recording all of Castillo's answers. The three other Spartans settled down into their positions and simply listened, making sure that they got as much of the important information as possible. They didn't gleam any big and important things, but they did learn some small things that could be helpful. Buck in particular was curious about the non-belic aspect of the Citadel races. When humanity had fought against the Covenant there had been no need to understand the way the Covenant society functioned. There had been a need to understand how their weapons and tactics worked. There had been a need to understand how to efficiently kill them.

Buck still wanted to know the best ways to kill a Turian with a knife or how to negate an Asari's biotics. He was curious as to how they could incentivize Krogan mercenaries to keep from fighting against humanity and would've liked to understand just exactly what the science behind the so-called tech attacks was.

When it came down to it, the Citadel races weren't that hard to kill. Asari were as frail as humans, Turians as well, their armoured plating might've helped against a slash from a knife, but they wouldn't do a whole lot to a nice stab, let alone a bullet. Krogan were a mess to deal with, but no harder to kill than a brute or an elite with mid-level shields. Salarians were similar to Asari and Turians when it came to difficulty level, but they were particularly tricky, especially when they lit you on fire or tried to freeze you.

 _Well, I never expected to be fighting even stranger aliens,_ Buck thought to himself, shifting his position slightly and moving his jaw from one side to the other. He looked at Spartans Vale and Tanaka, both of whom appeared to be deeply engrossed with Castillo. He felt slightly jealous before realizing that the two women were consummate professionals and that they were simply paying attention. Besides, he was infinitely more attractive than Castillo.

 _Damn right I am._

* * *

Saren looked at the four walls that surrounded him. He had examined the prison nice and long before having to admit to himself that there was no way he was going to break out of there. There were two small automated turrets aiming at the door and a squad of soldiers watching him and his team at all times. Frankly, he didn't believe that he could leave the prison cell itself in the first place.

"So now what?" Grekoy asked when he saw that Saren had finally given up on looking for weaknesses.

"Now we wait," Saren replied. "We figure out why our own fleet attacked us and just what the hell that ship was.

"Something tells me that this truce is going to last a whole lot longer," Doctor T'Soni muttered quietly. She had been meditating for several hours now and these were her first words in a while.

"Why's that?" Garrus asked, tugging at the one-size-too-small clothes that he had been issued.

"That mysterious ship is not of Citadel make," Liara said. "I'm sure Spectre Arterius coincides with me on that. The Batarians don't have anything like that."

"How do we know that?" Tali asked.

"They would've used it by now," Saren said.

"True," Garrus replied, chuckling slightly. "Those dumb shits."

"Well, those dumb shits aren't the transgressors in this case," Saren said.

"For once," Grekoy muttered.

"And we don't have anything like that. The technology is not consistent with what we have observed the humans to have," the Turian Spectre continued.

At this point Liara stood up and sighed. She felt a little bit dizzy, but mostly frustrated that the humans had found a way to block biotics so quickly into this war. Rumour was that they had incredibly effective interrogation techniques. At least that's what the survivors that weren't missing too many limbs or their minds said.

"I am afraid that there might be a third faction involved," she said. "The humans spoke of a conglomerate of races that almost drove them to extinction."

"For having been pushed to the brink so recently they sure as hell give us a lot of trouble," Grekoy complained, drawing a snort from Tali.

"I can only assume that the Covenant or maybe a splinter faction has decided that this is the best time to attack us," Liara concluded.

"And if they are as xenophobic as the humans made it out to be… then we're in some serious trouble," Saren finished.

"That doesn't answer the question of why the hell our allies just pummelled our own fleet to the brink of destruction," Garrus pointed out. "It doesn't seem like the Covenant that you describe would run this kind of operation."

"We'll just have to figure it out as we go," Saren sighed, frustration clearly evident in his voice.

Grekoy leaned back. "Which brings me back to now what?"

They all looked at each other, secretly hoping that someone would have the answer.

* * *

 _Thanks to **Colonel-Commissar2468** for proofreading this chapter._

 _Thanks to all of yall for reading thie chapter as well. I hope that you enjoyed it. I wish I had more stuff to say, but as always I can only apologize for the horrible amount of time that it takes for me to update._


	7. Homefront

VII:Homefront

 **June 17, 2559 (UNSC Calendar)/**

 **UNSC** _ **Infinity**_ **, orbiting Ursa IV, Ursa System**

Things weren't going well. Then again, when did they ever?

Shepard's armor was barely holding together at this point, her chest piece was missing large chunks where shrapnel had hit and her helmet had been basically shaved on her left side when she had slammed into a Promethean Soldier. They were smaller than the Knights, but when you were thrown against them hard they felt pretty similar. Her left arm was charred and her undersuit had sustained enough damage that her skin was showing. The same could be said for both of her legs. At this point adrenaline was the only thing that kept her going. That and the good fortune that she'd had. Fortune that had made shots miss her head by inches and somehow had kept her shields in working order.

"Parker, tell me you've got something," she said.

"Not yet, Shep," the Spartan replied. "We're cutting through the wall right now, but we can't hit anything important."

"Roland?"

"Turrets are getting taken out," the AI responded. "It's taking all my power just to keep that thing at bay, Spartan. I can hardly focus on protecting the inside of the ship."

At that moment the _Infinity_ shook violently, as if to reinforce the AI's point. Shepard cursed silently and looked at Spartan Ray. She was not unconscious, but it was easy to tell that the Spartan was done for the day. She had powered through what was certainly a concussion, several shrapnel injuries, and two bullets to the chest and somehow managed to keep fighting until she was thrown against a wall. Shepard had dragged her out of the fire and into this small armoury, where she had managed to stabilize her and remain hidden from the Prometheans.

"How does shit like this happen?" Ray asked, groaning.

"We knew were walking into a trap," Shepard replied, grabbing pistol magazines and attaching them to her holster. She had already gotten a full load of grenades and ammunition for her assault rifle and was getting ready to move.

"Lasky is not gonna be happy," the injured Spartan told Shepard. "His ship doesn't seem to be in great shape."

"Yeah," she agreed. "Amongst other concerns."

"Amongst other concerns," Ray echoed.

"Shep," Parker came in on the radio. "They're about to get through, we need you to stall them."

"We're not in great shape here," she said. "Are we sure there's no other units in the area?"

"Platoon B was moving up, but they were butchered before they could get there. Most Spartan units are bottled down in the S-Deck and the ones that aren't are either in the bridge or protecting the engine."

"Shit," Shepard muttered. "Where's Klahan?"

"Systems have him moving, but his communicator isn't working and that area of the ships has dead systems."

"Fucking hell," she swore. "I'll get moving."

"We can't let them get it, Shep."

"I'll do my best." She turned towards Ray. "You gonna be good?"

She got a quick nod in reply.

"Good luck, Shepard."

Jane sighed and nodded in thanks. Before leaving she grabbed a shotgun and a bandolier that she promptly slung across her chest. The Knights could take a pounding, but two shotgun blasts usually had them on their ass turning to dust. That being said, two shotgun blasts were usually enough to take pretty much anything out.

Shepard quickly punched the code on the door of the armoury and walked out into the battle-scarred hallway. There were a couple of dead Marines to her left, one of them had left a blood stain behind him where a bullet had gone clean through, the other one had been hit in the head, leaving brains splattered all over the floor.

She made sure that the hallway was clear and then took off. She was running as fast as she could with all her injuries, but she was still making good time. Normally Roland would've kept her updated, but the AI was having trouble. Spartans Miller and Dalton had been incommunicado since the attack started too, so Shepard would have to do without mission control.

As soon as she turned left she came across two Promethean Soldiers, she quickly shot each of them in their heads with the shotgun, taking them out before they could even raise their weapons. They were already disintegrating by the time she ran past them. She fumbled a bit with the shells before reloading her shotgun and turning the next corner. From there she'd have to enter a service room and climb up a ladder to make it to the right floor. After that it was simply a matter of powering completely through what was without a doubt a small army of Prometheans.

She hadn't seen any aliens on the ship, which was mildly curious. She wondered whether the Forerunner construct that the _Infinity_ was engaged with had allowed the Forerunner infantry to teleport in. That being said, she hadn't seen any Promethean teleport. For all she knew they could've gotten in through a different method.

As she climbed the ladder her shields suddenly flared. She looked up to see two Crawlers attached to the sides of the small tunnel and firing at her. She cursed and tried to get her shotgun pointed upwards, moving side to side to try and avoid some of the shots as her shields slowly got chipped away. She cursed and dropped her shotgun, drew her sidearm and aimed up, taking out the two critters. She sighed and slid down the ladder, grabbed her shotgun and started hauling ass again.

"We're about halfway done," Parker told her. "We need to slow them down."

"Almost there," Shepard replied as she hopped out of the ladder tunnel. "I'll make some noise."

"Sounds good."

At that point Shepard had to fully commit. She was at a dead sprint and had her shotgun ready. She took two deep breaths as she ran and finally turned the corner into the hallway that led into Glassman's lab. The scientist had left as soon as the assault started; last she heard he was moving with a unit towards the Slipspace generator, trying to get it back online. He had left the Janus Key behind and that's what these Prometheans were trying to get so hard.

As soon as she turned the corner she processed several things. There were at least two dozen different Prometheans, most of them Knights. The security turrets had been eliminated and they were beginning to cut through the thick security doors that kept Glassman's lab secured. Finally, not enough of them were facing away from her. They knew exactly what was coming to them.

Shepard slid back into cover as her position was hammered with hardlight fire. She cursed yet again and shot from around the corner. The buckshot didn't have to hit the Knights directly, it could simply bounce around the walls and floor and keep them suppressed. She fired four times in quick succession before throwing four grenades. The fragmentation devices detonated almost simultaneously. As soon as the last explosion rocked the hallway she pivoted out of cover and fired at the closest surviving Prometheans. The disintegrating constructs provided a degree of concealment for her, she managed to switch to her assault rifle and targeted two small Watchers that were already moving to revive the dead Knights. She almost hollered in triumph when both of them went down before she had to take cover again.

"Let's go Shep," she muttered to herself.

She tossed two more grenades and ran after them, firing her assault rifle full auto and absorbing light-rifle shots with her shields before sliding into cover into a small side room. From there she reloaded as the grenades exploded and then fired on the survivors. She had killed around eight or so Prometheans at this point, but that meant that she still had over half to go and now she was basically trapped in this room with no chance for retreat.

"Ah fuck."

Words that had been uttered by many before her and would be uttered by many for ages to come.

"We're getting there, Shep, hold a bit longer," Parker updated her.

"It's what I do," she replied.

Shepard still had half a dozen grenades left, and when things got a bit riskier she would adapt a high-risk, high-reward combat strategy of close combat. It was high-risk because the Knights were ten feet tall and they had massive hardlight swords that could easily cut a Spartan in half. She had seen it happen.

Shepard took a deep breath before glancing at her motion sensor. She saw movement and immediately fired from behind cover. A half-second burst later and she tossed a grenade. After the explosion she emptied the rest of her magazine, hoping that she hit something and then proceeded to throw another grenade. The instant it exploded she was already dashing out of the small room. She knew that there was another door on the other side of the hallway and several feet in front. She'd just be digging herself deeper, but it would also force the Prometheans to engage her directly and stop trying to cut through the doors.

About two thirds of the way to the next door she was hit in the leg. The impact barely dented her shields, but it had a lot more force behind it than she expected. It didn't take long before she found herself face first on the floor and with a Crawler on her back. She cursed and twisted, grabbing the construct that had tackled her with one hand and throwing it with incredibly force at the closest Knight. The Crawler was broken in half by the impact, but the Knight barely registered it as a scratch. It did allow Shepard to dive forward and then pull herself inside the next room. The trip had cost her most of her shields, as her lower body was pummeled with hardlight fire from the surviving Knights.

"Fucking fu-"

Shepard did not have time to get wordy, as a Knight decided to capitalize on her misfortunes and moved in on her. She backpedalled furiously, trying to get some cover. The Knight aimed at her with its light-rifle, firing two shots that she barely managed to dodge. She rolled on the floor, telling herself that a strategy like that shouldn't work in real life as she blasted her shotgun on the Knight's midsection. After that she pushed back with her feet and then moved behind a table. Another hardlight bullet hit her shoulder, taking out what was left of her shields and twisting her sideways. She used her right hand to tip over the table and finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Relief is relative.

She could see the dents that the hardlight bullets made in the heavy metal table, but UNSC vessels were warships through and through and were designed with fighting in mind. The tables were designed to tolerate medium-caliber bullets as well as plasma weaponry. They weren't as efficient against the hardlight weapons that the Forerunner constructs used, but they were all that she needed. Shepard calmly set her shotgun aside and tossed a grenade over her back before reloading it. She pumped a shell into the barrel just as the grenade detonated.

She allowed herself a brief chuckle. _I bet that would've looked cool in a movie._

Shepard was right, it would have looked cool in a movie, but the room's security cameras were damaged and the angle wouldn't have been ideal. Sadly, her helmet camera was trashed beyond any sort of functionality so all she had was the memory. She gave the situation no further thought before she vaulted over the table and finished off the Promethean Knight. She kept moving and pivoted out of the doorway and back into the hallway. She was greeted by a slightly more welcoming sight than she dared hope for, there were only two Promethean Knights left alive and they weren't attempting to cut through the door anymore. Dispatching them was almost easy.

"Parker, it's clear."

"I hear you, Shep," her squadmate replied. "Opening the door."

The lab door creaked open; the Prometheans had done a nice number on it.

Shepard was greeted by the sight of Spartan Parker and eight ODSTs, all of them standing around the half of the Janus Key. She walked inside and the doors shut behind her.

"Thanks for buying us time," Parker told her. "These walls were hard to get through."

She nodded and sat down on a padded chair.

"Shepard!" her radio suddenly erupted, Klahan's voice filling her helmet. "I've got Halsey with me; she has the other half of the key!"

"What?!" she erupted. "How did that happen?"

"I have no clue," he replied. "She's on the run, moving slow, we have a couple thousand Covenant fucks chasing us down and none of the turrets are deploying."

"Repeat that please," Roland said. "What's your location?"

"I've been broadcasting the last two hours!" Klahan replied, exasperated. "Halsey is hauling ass towards Glassman's lab."

"I see you," the AI said, its voice a lot more dull than usual. Roland was probably only dedicating a minuscule amount of his processing capabilities to this conversation, instead focusing on fighting back the Forerunner cybernetic assault while driving the ship. "I'm sending a path to your helmet. Most turrets in that path will be activated and should buy you some time."

"Thanks," Klahan huffed. "Shep, you waiting for us there?"

"Me and Parker," she confirmed. "Soon as you guys walk through, the doors will shut behind you."

"Copy that."

Parker turned towards the Helljumpers and made a motion with his head. The squad of eight divided into two groups. Four men climbed up into the hole that they had dug in a corner of the room and set guard. They had dug the hole in between two walls, but if the Prometheans found a way to get in there, there was about to be some serious trouble.

Things were getting shitty. The ship was constantly shaking and Shepard could tell from past experience and training that there was not a chance in hell they could keep up this pace for the next hour. The Prometheans had disabled plenty of the ship-to-ship weapons on the _Infinity_ and even with the entire Marine detachment working furiously to put them back online they were having a hell of a time fighting whatever Forerunner and Covenant ships were being thrown at them.

"Getting close," Klahan said. "Halsey still has the key on her."

"We're waiting," Shepard replied. "All clear on our end."

 _How the hell did Halsey get away from 'Mdama? And why do the Covenant show up only now?_

Lots of things were beyond her paygrade, but when those things started directly affecting her wellbeing then she started getting concerned. Shepard liked to consider herself as a smart girl, but as a Spartan her role wasn't to be smart. Spartans weren't really meant to act independently and make their own judgments and decisions. She tried to keep her thoughts away from anything that could be a distraction. That's how she had been trained.

It really said something that the current situation had her imagination so deeply enthralled. She had no clue what was going on outside of the _Infinity_ , she barely had any idea of what the hell was happening around the ship itself.

"We're turning the corner!" Klahan shouted.

"Move it!" Shepard replied.

She saw Halsey, now missing an arm, running as fast as her aging legs allowed her to. The massive Spartan next to her appeared to be almost three times her size. Spartan Wattana had presumably been forced to remain in hiding after being cut off in an area controlled by the Forerunner constructs, but after getting Halsey out of there he had taken some hits.

"Close the doors," Halsey ordered as soon as she stepped through the door.

The Marines looked at Shepard before she gave the nod. The heavy lab doors slid noisily to a close, allowing everybody a brief sigh of relief.

"They're going to try and cut through," Halsey said immediately. "Where's the other half of the key?"

At this point Shepard knew two things about Halsey. She knew that the good doctor had been convicted of war crimes and she knew that the good doctor had defected to the Covenant. This meant that Halsey was in no position to be giving orders, something which Shepard made abundantly clear.

"You have half of the Janus Key?" Halsey continued undisturbed.

Halsey produced a funny-looking Forerunner artefact from her coat pocket and showed it to her. "Yes, I manage- Hey!"

Shepard snatched the half of the key and examined it briefly before putting it inside a pouch on her thigh. There was no reason why Halsey should be allowed to keep the other half any longer.

There was a loud bang at the door.

"Cameras," Shepard said. "Can we see outside?"

One of the ODSTs glanced at a screen. "We've got a large number of Covenant troops."

"Parker, we're going to need a way out the back," Shepard radioed in.

"I'm seeing heavy Forerunner activity," Parker replied in hushed tones. "They seem to be looking for the place we got in from."

"Shit," Shepard cursed.

"Prometheans are many things, but dumb ain't one of them," Klahan noted.

She paced back and forth briefly. "Roland, can you help out?"

The reply took a solid ten seconds.

"Apologies, I cannot. Venting the deck would kill at least three hundred human souls, and my control of the doors is gone, that's how they've managed to move around so much."

"Suggestions?" Shepard asked to nobody in particular.

"This isn't a very defensible room," the lead ODST replied. "There's only one or two good cover spots and if someone tosses a grenade in here…"

Shepard nodded. "Guess we're moving out."

Like clockwork she heard the Promethean weapons fire coming from the hole cut in the ceiling. Gunfire responded in kind as a firefight of some sort erupted above their heads.

"They're bringing hunters in!" the ODST that had looked at the camera's image cried out. "They're firing!"

The entire room shook violently twice and Shepard could see the inside of the heavy doors begin to turn slightly red from the heat.

"Shit! Let's move!"

"Get down!" Parker shouted.

Two ODSTs dove through the hole in the ceiling and landed hard while an explosion was heard overhead. Moments later Parker slid down.

"They have at least eight Knights," he stated. "Incineration cannons. All of them."

"Goddamn," Shepard muttered. It took her a moment to realize that she was as good as dead.

"Front or back, ma'am?" the Shock Trooper leader asked her.

"Old foes or new?" Halsey whispered. "Shepard, where's the other half of the key?"

She jerked her head towards a small device that kept the key hovering over it.

"Give me your half."

"What?"

"I'm going to join the halves."

"Why?"

"We're dead already," the doctor said. "Whatever knowledge we can get out of this will be more helpful than dying. They're going to take both halves anyways."

"Lady has a point," Roland said. "Though I'm hesitant to- excuse me."

The ship rumbled violently, forcing Shepard and the others to hold on to something. Shepard's hand broke off a handle and she fell onto the floor. She looked up to see Halsey reaching towards the other half of the key. Before she was on her feet Halsey had reached her and was rummaging through her pouch. Shepard stopped her, grabbing her one wrist.

"We have to," Halsey stated calmly.

Shepard let go and allowed her to do whatever she wanted to. The Hunters were firing on the door once again and the back door that they had made was both blocked and not an option.

"Go," she ordered.

It was very anticlimactic. Halsey joined the two halves of the key and they simply came together like you'd expect a magnet to do. Nothing happened for a second as the doors rumbled violently and the Prometheans tried to shake the debris loose to come in through the ceiling.

"Well what the-?" Klahan began before a projection of the Milky Way galaxy filled the room.

"Whoa!" Parker exclaimed.

* * *

 **UNSC** _ **Infinity**_ **Bridge**

"Brace!"

The ship rumbled violently. It seemed like the shaking was more norm than exception at the moment.

Lasky was used to it, not from this engagement alone, but from an uncomfortably long time of squaring off against Forerunner enemies. He steeled himself as another blast of light impacted the _Infinity_. The navigator had complied as fast as possible, but the ship just didn't have it in itself to move fast enough. The rear left side received a glancing blow from the impact. Roland had adjusted the shields to have maximum power at the exact impact point, but the _Infinity_ had taken too much damage. The Forerunner construct fired dozens of smaller weapons, all of which impacted the ship. There was not much the PDGs could do against the advanced enemy vessel.

"Fuck! Get me cleanup crews and medical support in the areas hit!"

"We can't keep sending in additional crews, sir!" someone shouted. "Medical deck is overflowing with wounded as it is!"

"Send repairs then! Prioritize but get as much as you can fixed!"

"Sir," Palmer said, "my Spartans are still locked shut in the deck, the Marines are busy trying to protect Medical, the bridge, and the engine room, there's not a lot more that we have available."

"There were seventeen thousand souls on board this vessel before we left for this deployment," Lasky said calmly. "Find someone."

"Sir," Shepard said, nodding.

"Roland, I want all of our missile pods ready to go, if this thing tries to fly circles around us then we're hitting it from every angle."

"Yes sir," the AI replied. "Onagers 8 and 17 will be back online in less than a minute."

"Keep firing," he said. "When are our MACs back online?"

"Port cannon is down for the foreseeable future," Roland said once again. "Starboard and front MACs are getting ready. We'll be ready to fire within six minutes."

"I don't know if we have that much time, Roland," Lasky muttered. "My ship is falling apart."

"This is my ship too, sir," Roland said.

Lasky stared at the gigantic Forerunner manta ray flying through space, twisting and turning incredibly fast but somehow still managing to appear slow and cumbersome. The Forerunners had a weird way of constructing their ships, but deadly was certainly an adjective that could be used to describe them. Even then Lasky knew that the construct they were facing was not actively going for the kill, it was buying enough time for the boarding party to get what they wanted. The Janus Key.

"Someone patch me up to Shepard," Lasky said.

"She's a wee bit busy at the moment," Roland told him. "Palmer is trying to stabilize that situation."

"Where's Majestic?"

"Still with Glassman, he's getting some progress, the lock should be removed soon."

"As in…?"

"Two hours," the AI said with a small shrug.

"Shit."

"That seems to be the most common word on the ship at the moment."

"It's not fuck?" Lasky asked.

"Close second."

The Forerunner ship swerved hard as dozens of Rapiers exploded against it. Some of its parts seemed to be damaged and flickered with bright blue lights, but more often than not they would fly back towards the main body of the enemy ship.

"Halsey's trying something," Roland advised.

"Wait- Halsey?!" Lasky exclaimed. "What the hell is she doing here?"

"Sorry sir," the AI apologized, "I'm operating past max capacity."

"What the-?"

Suddenly the enemy ship stopped moving.

"It's deep scanning us, sir!"

"Fire!"

The _Infinity_ used the brief seconds of respite to align its main MAC cannons with the centre of the Forerunner ship. It's wings spread to either side and the face-like section glowed brightly. Lasky had already given the order, and by the time he was beginning to shout again, the MAC round had already left the ship. The _Infinity_ shook as the large slug flew outwards. The last time the _Infinity_ had gone up against a Forerunner ship it had carved a nice little hole through it, and the _Mantle's Approach_ had been larger than this ship by several orders of magnitude.

That's why everyone in the ship was stunned silent when the impact of two MAC slugs didn't make a single scratch on the ship.

"What in the hell? Spartan Palmer murmured, walking towards the giant screen displaying the enemy.

"Readings indicate shields are down, Captain!"

"Roland, everything out, now!"

The AI was only too happy to comply. Lasky watched as dozens upon dozens of missiles left their pods and screamed towards the now defenceless target. The construct shot sections of its tail forward to act as counter measures, but there were simply too many missiles to block. Lasky gripped the back of his chair so hard his knuckled turned white. Archer, Howler, and Rapier missiles were individually weak, but in numbers they were more than able to take out a large vessel such as the one directly in front of them.

"Slipspace readings," Roland said. "It's preparing to jump!"

"Sir! Entire units of Prometheans are disappearing from the ship!" an ensign cried out.

"Communications are back up!"

"Don't let it jump, Roland!"

"Spinning up the MAC again."

The Forerunner ship used one of its wings to block for the couple hundred missiles screaming towards it as a slipspace portal opened up behind it. There was a bright flash just as the _Infinity_ fired again.

"Missed shot," Roland reported. "Ship jumped right before we fired."

"God- _fucking-_ damn!" Lasky cursed, punching at the back of his chair. "Roland, start working on a damage report. Are there hostiles still on board?"

"Covenant troops, sir," Roland said. "Not too many, the ones in our hangars are pulling out."

"Palmer, that's you," Lasky said. "I want this ship clean of filth within the hour."

"On it," Spartan Palmer said, putting her helmet on and grabbing a DMR on her way out of the bridge.

* * *

Shepard looked at the door as it slowly melted before grabbing the Janus Key out of Halsey's hands and pushing her back.

"Shepard," Roland said, appearing in physical form. "Prometheans have pulled out and I have full control of the ship now, I'm venting the Covenant out."

Shepard didn't realize just how tense she had been, she felt her entire body relax as soon as the AI said those words. She even lowered her rifle a little bit and let out a sigh of relief. Two of the Helljumpers even leaned back on the wall and one of them muttered something that sounded dangerously close to thanking God. She moved towards the screen and watched as Roland locked the Covenant's exits. There were still various human survivors in the same deck, but Roland could now pull all of the oxygen out of certain compartments. Elites and jackals slowly collapsed, making the hunters turn around and look. The grunts had their little gas tanks, but they began panicking quickly. The two hunters tried to keep them in check and prevent them from pulling out, but squashing two of them against the wall was not exactly a calming technique. The rest of the grunts dipped out, a few of them even firing at the hunters.

"Parker, can we get out the top?"

"Not without more time," he replied. "Hard to move all the shit blocking the passage."

"Alright then," Shepard said. "Anyone know how long hunters can go without air?"

"A long time," Halsey stated calmly.

"So we're still gonna die?" Klahan asked. "Well that's fucking great."

"We can take two hunters," Parker told him.

"In close quarters?"

"Valid concern," Shepard said.

The two hunters conferred with each other briefly by making those weird noises that they did before leaving.

Sometimes things went better than expected.

It was hard to feel like there was a positive to all this, especially considering the carnage that they had all gone through. Shepard leaned back on one of Glassman's desks and took a deep breath, allowing herself to feel all the bruises and scratches that she had amassed in the last couple of hours. It didn't feel good and she knew that they weren't going to get any good news any time soon either.

"Fuck," she muttered.

* * *

 **June 17, 2559 (UNSC Calendar)/**

 **UNSC** _ **Infinity**_ **, orbiting Ursa IV, Ursa System**

Palmer had never seen Lasky this angry. She typically didn't associate the word anger with her captain. She had seen him mad, that's for certain, they had both been together through Requiem, but she had never seen him quite this angry. Lasky had stayed up for hours after coordinating the entire ship through a very dangerous battle, one that they had only lived through because the enemy got what they wanted.

 _They got what they wanted…_

"Um, sir?" Roland asked, his hologram flickering. It was the first time that the AI had appeared fully intelligent since the battle had started. It wasn't spread thinly over the ship anymore. At least not as much.

"Roland?" Lasky asked grimly.

"I have a finalized casualty report. I can't guarantee one hundred per cent accuracy yet, but…"

Captain Lasky sighed and adjusted his position in the foldable chair that had been brought up for him. Everyone else in the bridge stopped doing what they were doing and raised their heads slightly, looking at the golden hologram in pilot gear.

"Sir?" the AI asked again.

"Go ahead."

"Our starboard armor was pretty much boiled away completely. Almost all levels have some sort of exposure to vacuum. The damage is pretty similar to that in the front half of our ventral side. Seventy-two percent of our offensive capabilities were lost in the starboard side and eighty-nine o-"

"Roland," Captain Lasky stopped the AI.

The AI remained silent for a few seconds.

"Roland," Lasky repeated, this time with more steel in his voice.

"Eight thousand, two hundred and six."

Palmer was not prepared for that number. She simply felt her knees weaken slightly and reached for the wall to steady herself. The whole bridge went dead silent, there wasn't a gasp or anything along those lines. It was simply stunned silence. Lasky himself didn't even flinch. He heard the numbers and just gave a small nod before taking a deep breath.

"Wounded?"

"Two thousand and sixty four," Roland said. "As far as our staff can tell all of those will survive. There are several others with minor injuries such as scrapes and bruises, but I didn't count minor injuries."

"That's all for now," Lasky said.

"But sir, we-"

"Roland. Please."

"Understood," he replied, straightening his artificial back. "I do need a word with Commander Palmer though."

Sarah nodded slightly and looked towards Lasky, who gestured for her to head out of the bridge. She did as instructed and took the walk outside of the bridge. Lasky then told her that they were probably better off in one of the small side rooms. Palmer found herself flipping over a chair upright. She sat in the middle of the destroyed break room as Roland's avatar appeared.

"Sarah, I've got word from the S-deck."

Her eyes widened. "Finally, what's Fry saying?"

"Spartan Fry was killed in action," Roland said. "Palmer, you may want to sit back down."

She looked down and realized she had gotten up as soon as she had heard the news. Palmer calmly sat back down, the chair groaned under the combined weight of her body and her armor.

"The S-deck was bottled up," Roland began. "They knew exactly where our strongest troops were going to be and they were hit there hard."

"And?"

"Prometheans went in before most Spartans could access their armor. They did a formidable job of defending the deck, but there were casualties."  
Palmer suppressed a curse. "How many?"

"A lot," the AI said dejectedly.

"I brought three hundred and eight Spartans on board for this deployment," she said. "Just tell me how many letters I'm going to have to write."

"Sixty-eight Spartans were killed during the engagement, twenty-three were critically injured and will not be able to fight for the foreseeable future. Dozens of others will spend a week or two in the med bay."

Sarah got up calmly, grabbed the chair she had been sitting on, lifted it, and smashed it against the nearest wall. She repeated this action until the chair was nothing more than two twisted metal legs. By the time she was done she was breathing moderately hard. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths and regain her composure.

"Tell Lasky I'm headed down to the S-deck," she said. "I need to assess the damage."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

 **June 18, 2559 (UNSC Calendar)/one day later**

 **UNSC** _ **Yucatan,**_ **orbiting Lutzen, Tsubasa, Sidekick Epsilon System**

"I see," Cutter muttered. "And you Captain?"

"I'm alright," Lasky replied. "My ship can move too, so there's that."

"I take it you're proceeding back to Earth?"

"Back to Earth," Lasky confirmed. "We've got plenty of repairs to deal with. There is however, one small matter."

"This… key, you speak of," Cutter said, "Is it as important as you say?"

"That and more," Lasky said. "It is vital that we secure this location."

"And what location would that be?"

"We have the coordinates," Captain Lasky told him. "I can send them to you, but I'd rather they be sent only to the ship or ships that are headed there."

"Captain, I understand the importance of this location," Cutter said, "but I believe you understand my predicament as well. We are facing a powerful unknown enemy that doesn't match anything that the UNSC has seen before, I cannot afford to send ships away."

"I understand, admiral," Lasky replied.

"I will, however," he went on, "send a prowler your way. I have a Spartan fireteam on board my ship. They were guarding high value assets."

"Citadel?" Lasky asked.

"Correct," he replied.

"Well, we're heading back to Earth," Lasky said. "We can take care of that for you."

"Good," Cutter said. "I'll send a prowler your way along with my Spartans, but that's all I can do."

"Any help is appreciated, Admiral," Lasky said right before cutting the transmission.

"So what was that all about?" Carnival asked, its avatar shining brightly.

"I don't know," Cutter muttered. "Evidently a Forerunner creature. Which is not what we're facing here."

The AI twinkled and shone while listening to Cutter's words. The Vice Admiral approached the holotable and looked down at it. It was showing a crystal clear image of the planet underneath his warship. He could see some of the lights in Lutzen where UNSC forces were still trying to keep a semblance of battle lines. He could see the three big conglomerations of lights where the ground forces held valuable positions, but he could not see anything resembling lighting in the enemy-held areas.

"I don't like this," Cutter told the AI. "First these newcomers, and now these Forerunners. What the hell even are the Forerunners doing still alive?"

"Stranger things have happened."

"Stranger things have happened," Cutter agreed. "Like establishing an alliance with the Citadel right after starting a war with them."

"Don't forget about our alliance with the Sangheili."

Cutter groaned and shook his head. "The friggin' elites."

"Sangheili is the correct nomenclature," Carnival said.

"They butchered humanity for over twenty-five years, Carnival," Cutter said. "They killed some of my best friends."

"Sorry, sir. I won't joke like that again."

"Yeah, make sure that doesn't happen," Cutter said. "Give me sat images of Lutzen."

"Yes, sir."

Cutter looked down at the new image in the holotable. He could see everything with a lot more detail now. He tapped a few points and observed the sporadic gunfire coming out of human held positions. He could see the tracer rounds travel through what he assumed to be open ground before disappearing whenever they hit someone. On the other side he could see the occasional bluish light that signalled a mass effect weapon being fired. It was pretty cut and dry, especially since it would be nearly impossible to confuse human forces with the enemy.

"Send word to Locke," Cutter said. "Have his team briefed and ready to escort our prisoners towards one of our Prowlers."

"What about the other Spartan?"

Cutter considered the situation briefly. "He should go with; ONI will probably want to do more in-depth debriefing. Besides, he is familiar with the prisoners."

"Yes, sir," the AI said, twinkling. "I'll give out the order."

Cutter nodded to himself before looking back down at the projection of Tsubasa's surface. The battles had only been going for a little bit and nothing bigger than conventional explosives had been used. Lutzen was never going to be lived on again, but the planet was not yet scarred. He had seen Harvest after it was recaptured by the UNSC and he had never really realized just how much damage could be done to something as massive as a planet.

But these were different times now. Times where superweapons that could wipe out the entire galaxy were a legitimate concern. He tried to focus on his part, trying to establish a truce with the Citadel forces and attack the newcomers, who had apparently disappeared into FTL and were impossible to track. At least they wouldn't be able to appear right behind them, Cutter understood that the FTL that the Citadel used had its limitations as well.

"We're getting word from the ground," his communications officer said, "newcomers are staging an offensive."

"Get ready to provide support and coordination," Cutter said. "Our boys will give them hell."

* * *

 **0250/3198 (Galactic Standard)/**

 **Fehl Prime, Terminus Systems**

Spectre Jondum Bau was scared. He got scared fairly often in his line of work. He got scared for his life, scared for his health, and scared for his missions. Fear was good, he thought. Without fear there is no bravery or some such bullshit like that. He didn't care about bravery; he didn't consider himself to be a particularly brave Salarian. Sure, he had great accomplishments that many would've labelled as brave, but mostly they stemmed from his superior ability to kill. One might call a hunter brave for tracking down and killing a beast, but are they really brave if they're carrying a mass effect rifle with a scope in order to kill an animal whose highest goal in life is to find food? Jondum knew that he was an order of magnitude more skilled than the average soldier. It didn't take a lot of bravery for him to fight mercenaries or criminals. It was comparable to a professional fighter engaging in combat with a scrawny teenager.

You didn't become a Spectre just because. You had to earn it.

He knew he was never going to be as deadly as Saren or Vasir and he was ok with that, he simply had a different purpose as an operative. He had always been alright with that, but now that was the reason he was scared.

Jondum had intercepted various messages intended for other Spectres. At first he had suspected subversion within the ranks, but then things got strange. Three kill orders were given, strange, but not unheard of. Once the targets were gone then more kill orders were put out, this time the targets were the Spectres that had complied with the initial kill orders. Jondum knew that was more than just unusual. He watched as more and more Spectres were ordered to kill each other until eventually his name popped up. He had immediately run, leaving behind a nice little dirty bomb that had taken out two Turian Spectres who had failed to triple check the entrance to one of his safe houses. Now he was on the run and the Council was issuing orders to Vasir to hunt him down.

"Right in the middle of mission," he said. "Bad timing. Terrible."

Jondum was not a moron. Quite the opposite in fact. He didn't necessarily like Spectre Tela Vasir, but he had a decent working relationship with her. He simply sent her a compilation of all the kill orders and the results of open warfare between Spectres. He added a quick message telling her that he suspected someone had managed to compromise the security of the Spectre network. He knew that was unlikely, those orders came directly from the Council and it was all but impossible to hack into the secure networks that transmitted the orders. Jondum has initially suspected the humans, but his research showed that their AIs, while powerful, were not even close to able to perform the necessary calculations and operations to break through the encryption channels.

Which led Jondum to reach one conclusion. The Council was purging the Spectre ranks. How or why he did not know. Not yet.

All this and more went through his head as he backpedalled furiously. The Batarian colony that had only just settled this planet was long gone. All that remained of them was empty husks. He fired his shotgun at one of them, tearing through circuitry and flesh alike. The once-Batarian took a couple more steps and tried to swipe at him before falling down. Jondum fired once more, taking out the head and chest before moving backwards and reloading. The rocky surface of the planet didn't make it easy for him to run, not if he cared about his ankles at all. It did, however, provide obstacles for the Batarian husks chasing him. They'd constantly trip and make noise.

"No guns is good," Jondum said, feeling the two entrance wounds in his left arm. There had been a few monstrous creations that had fired at him, but Jondum had immediately taken them out before the more numerous yet less lethal husks swarmed him.

"Time to go," he said. "Soon."

His research had led him here. Entire teams and colonies had been going dark before he started his mission and he sought to find the reason why. Things got more and more confusing. Jondum suspected a cult that worshipped the mythical Reapers, as imagery and idolatry seemed present in each of the places he visited. The few survivors he encountered had second-hand accounts and some very nonsensical things to say. Jondum's first thought was psychological torture or some sort of mind games. His first conclusion was a delusional mercenary leader building a cult of personality around himself using the Reapers as some sort of godly authority. The more and more he followed the clues the more he realized that this hypothetical mercenary group was larger and more coordinated than he initially believed. It was easy to suspect a Batarian funded operation or even a highly coordinated plan fronted by a big mover in Terminus.

No.

Jondum shook his head, still in shock.

No. Nothing quite that complex, nothing with so many moving parts. It was simple, really.

It was the Reapers.


	8. Councilors

VIII: Councilors  


 **June 20, 2559 (UNSC Calendar)/two days later**

 **UNSC** _ **Infinity**_ **, orbiting Ursa IV, Ursa System**

"Sir, we've got a new contact in the system. IFF tags it as a friendly."

Lasky turned around to look at the display. "Hail it and get me visual confirmation ASAP. Do we have any probes in the area?"

"I've already dispatched two nearby ones, Captain," his navigations officer responded. "They should have a visual within a minute."

He nodded. Lasky knew that Cutter had already sent Spartans on board a vessel, but they were supposed to have arrived several hours ago. It wasn't unusual for delays when it came to traveling through slipspace, but UNSC ships tended to effectuate several jumps in situations where being tracked was a concern. This made traveling tedious and longer than it should be, but it also allowed for communication. Anything that would've caused a delay should've quickly been reported.

"Palmer, we've got newcomers," he relayed to the commander. "Might be your boys."

"Yes, sir," she acknowledged him. "Everyone else here is good to go."

Lasky looked around his bridge, still damaged from the previous battle. "How are you doing, Sarah?"

There was a short pause. "Much like you are, Captain. We'll be alright."

Lasky nodded to himself slightly. He had taken a walk to the infirmary ward and examined sections of the ship as soon as his job allowed him to. He had seen firsthand thousands of dead men and women. The casualty rate had spiked up heavily, and he had had to witness several of his injured sailors pass away because there simply weren't enough doctors or supplies to go around. Never before had he experienced loss of life on a scale like this, not even at Corbulo or any other battle had had participated in. He had recognized far too many of those faces.

The worst thing wasn't even needing to see dead eyes staring back at him, or a young man missing everything below his waist while trying to cling on to life. The worst part was that he couldn't even grant the dead the respect they deserved. They were jettisoned into the cold vacuum of space in mass quantities and Lasky could not even write the letters to their families. He could not even switch out the details in a pre-made letter. He was forced to tell Roland to take care of that.

"How is Red Team adapting to the ship?" he asked, just to make some conversation.

"They like it a lot better than the _Spirit_ ," she said. "I'd actually be more concerned about how my Spartans are getting adapted to the IIs."

"Has there been any sparring?" he asked.

"No dick measuring yet," Palmer replied with a tiny amount of humor in her voice. "It's just a bunch of little kids looking up in awe at their oldest cousin."

Lasky smiled a little bit, one of the few times that he had done so in the past three days. "And the IIIs?"

"They keep to themselves for the most part," Palmer replied. "Sir, do you have any word on Blue Team?"

"No changes, HIGHCOM tells me that they will not be joining us."

"And Captain, is it smart to put all the surviving Spartans in one spot?"

"It's been done before," Lasky said with a shrug.

"Yeah, but it wasn't a crippled vessel that was still leaking atmosphere, Captain."

"That's a fair point," he admitted, "but the _Infinity_ is the only ship that can handle the comm requirements needed."

"Gonna be an important meeting, isn't it?" Palmer asked.

"Important indeed."

* * *

Buck stepped off the prowler and onto the deck of the _Infinity_. He hadn't been able to see the damage that the ship had suffered, but Locke and some of the others had witnessed it as the ship approached. From inside it was hard to tell if there was much wrong; other than the fact that this hangar was a bit more cluttered than usual there seemed to be no indication that a battle had taken place. He shrugged off those thoughts and walked on, following Locke's lead. The big, bald, black man was as imposing as any Spartan could be, but there was a look to his eyes that put him a notch above the rest. It was a look that Buck had seen in the mirror looking back at him, but never with quite that intensity.

Walking next to Locke was Spartan Castillo, the only Spartan that had no armor on. He was still wearing a borrowed pair of fatigues and a gray shirt that said ODST in the front in black font. Slung behind his back was a battle rifle, compensating for his lack of duffel bag and gear. He had a pistol in a thigh holster, no magnetic straps involved. He looked a little bit like a soldier from an age long past, especially next to Locke, who kept his head perfectly shaved and his goatee perfectly trimmed. The contrast between the sparking clean armor and the rugged look was pretty glaring, especially considering that they were both team leaders for the Spartan Branch.

Buck would've paid good money to watch a fight between the two.

Spartan Palmer stood near the entrance to the hangar. Her hands weren't clasped behind her back like usual, instead they were holding onto a DMR. However, despite the increased aggression of her look she still didn't have her helmet on, allowing Buck to get a good look at her pretty face.

"Locke," she greeted with a quick nod. "Cap."

"Sarah."

"Commander."

There was an incredibly brief pause as everyone within hearing range glanced at Castillo, who had just referred to the person in charge of his military branch by their first name.

"Did you bring the prisoners with you?" she asked, ignoring the blatant breaking of protocol.

"They're in the ship, commander," Spartan Locke said.

She nodded. "We'll have to move them to the brig ASAP. In the meantime, you five follow me."

Buck adjusted his duffel bag over his shoulder and walked forward, settling in step with Spartan Tanaka while Vale caught up from behind them.

"What was that all about?" Tanaka whispered.

"Maybe they know each other," Buck said. "Castillo was one of the first."

"I thought you were one of the first," Vale teased.

He rolled his eyes. "Shut up."

They stepped into a tram and as soon as everyone was inside the train took off towards what Buck could only assume was S Deck if the direction they were moving in was anything to go by.

"Alright, listen up," Palmer said, turning around to face them. "You all know that the ship was attacked and we've suffered massive casualties. You also know that the Spartan contingent took a big hit."

There was silence as everyone nodded their heads.

"Sixty-eight Spartans were KIA," she said. "Fifteen more died from their injuries shortly after." Palmer gave everyone a few moments to take in the news before she continued. "Dozens more are wounded and plenty will not be able to fight again. At this moment our ranks are depleted and our morale is not exactly where it needs to be. But loss or not, the UNSC needs us to do our job. Humanity needs us to keep our shit together."

There were somber nods throughout the tram.

"Here's a casualty list," Palmer went on, her tone somber.

Locke took the datapad that Commander Palmer handed him and his eyes quickly scanned through the long list of names before he handed it to Buck. Buck looked down and went through the names, he had not yet made close connections to any of the Spartans, especially not those outside his team, but he recognized the overwhelming majority of the names on the list. More importantly, he could match faces to most names as well. Spartans Vale and Tanaka looked over his shoulders while he read through it. He could tell that despite their attempts to maintain professionalism their façade cracked ever so slightly. Both of the Spartans allowed their faces to betray the shock and anger that they were experiencing. At least they both managed to overwhelm any sign of sadness or loss.

Finally the datapad got to Castillo, whose eyes quickly darted up and down the list before he returned it to Palmer wordlessly. His face was that of a man that had just read a grocery list. Zero emotion.

The tram stopped and Buck had to steady himself. Apparently the damage to the _Infinity_ had made the tram system less perfectly smooth than it used to be. He subconsciously rolled his eyes at that thought. The UNSC had poured a few trillion credits into the construction of this ship. Buck thought it was worth it, he had seen firsthand how much damage it could dish out and just how much punishment it could take, but despite its usefulness there were some things that struck him as odd. He had been attached to several vessels over his long and illustrious career, and the UNSC had never failed to make their ships utilitarian and practical. The _Infinity_ , despite still having that military look and feel to it, was still a symbol and constantly in the public eye. Millions of credits had been dumped into unnecessary things, such as the massive fucking park in the middle of the ship. Buck couldn't help but shake his head when he wondered what had happened to the animals in the park. They hadn't signed up for this kind of bullshit.

The small group made their way through the hallways towards the Spartan deck; even here there were clear signs of damage. The walls were covered with scorch marks and hundreds of bullet holes. A few pieces of Promethean armor that hadn't been picked up yet were littered around. Light bulbs had been popped and replaced, but the glass hadn't been picked up yet. Buck made a point not to look at two large bloodstains covering the wall as they turned a corner, but he knew that Spartan Vale's eyes lingered on it for a few moments longer than they should have. Palmer stopped briefly before approaching the entrance that would lead them into Spartan town. The door was gone and hadn't been replaced yet. The barricades that the Spartans had set up to defend the chokepoint were still there, at least signs of them were. The battle must have been intense, as there were still several casings pressed against the walls so that people could walk through without stepping on them. Someone had hung up a large plastic cover to block the view, as the Spartan program still had a few thousand classified aspects not designed for the general public's knowledge.

Two Helljumpers stood guard at either side of the crummy barricade. One of them stood behind a LAAG and the other one was leaning against the wall, deeply engrossed by something in a datapad. The two ODSTs didn't even acknowledge the commander as she walked past them.

"Watching porn on duty?" Castillo asked the trooper leaning against the wall.

"As usual," the man replied, chuckling. "Rumor was you were KIA."

"I just took a break," he shot back with a small smile. "Delta-6?"

"They clocked out early."

Castillo nodded slightly and sighed. "I'm glad you made it, man. It's good to see you."

"You too, Cap."

It was a typical interaction between acquaintances. Buck was simply a little bit surprised that Castillo would be the type of person to interact with non-Spartans. Not a lot of Spartans were the type of person that would do that. Hell, he still considered himself a Helljumper before anything else and barely talked to people outside of the Spartan program. He didn't even like his teammates that much. Not yet, at least.

The six of them stepped through the plastic covering and this time Buck couldn't help but let his mouth widen as he saw the results of the battle. The S deck was all but destroyed. The bottom floor was still littered with Promethean debris and empty shells. One of the cranes on the ceiling had been brought down and taken out part of the catwalks with it before crashing down on the ground level. More than half of the armor removal machines had been damaged pretty badly. The living quarters, or at least the entrance to them, had suffered heavily from concentrated firing to it. Even from here Buck could see blood splatter that hadn't been washed off yet. He cursed silently, it seemed like the Prometheans had expended a sizeable amount of time and personnel into containing the majority of the Spartans inside this deck.

It appeared to have worked pretty well.

"Most Spartans are confined to their quarters at the moment," Palmer explained. "Captain ordered physical rest and I forced a few of them to watch some vids to get their minds off things."

"Did you suggest Breaking Bad?" Castillo asked.

Palmer smiled, it seemed like it was almost despite herself, before her face became completely serious again. "No, Frank. I did not suggest Breaking Bad."  
Buck ignored the inside joke between the two of them and examined the damage.

"What exactly happened here?" Locke asked.

"Prometheans had a couple of goals in mind, they needed relative free rein to accomplish them. They sent thousands of their troops down this bottleneck to keep the Spartans pinned down and fighting for their lives as opposed to actually being on the offensive. It worked pretty fucking well."

Locke looked at his commander before nodding briefly.

"Why are we here?"

"Lots of shit's been going down," Palmer told them. "As you probably already know this galaxy is getting more fucked up by the moment."

Buck was a little bit taken aback by Palmer's swearing. He had heard her curse before, but never so frequently and in casual conversation. The woman was all about looking good in front of others sometimes.

"It used to be us and the Covvies. Then the Prometheans decided that the Forerunner era wasn't quite over after one hundred thousand years. Now it's the Citadel races and others that were in contact with them," she went on. "Now there's new players that hit both us and the Citadel aliens."

"And we're all in conflict with each other to a degree," Locke muttered.

"Exactly," Palmer said, nodding. "We're hosting a UNSC meeting. Everyone is going to be here and since you've got more knowledge than most about these newcomers, as you call them, you're invited."

"All of us?" Spartan Vale asked.

"No," Palmer told her. "Frank and Locke only."

Buck turned his gaze towards her and glared.

"You had to ask," Tanaka muttered before chuckling.

"For now you're dismissed to your quarters," Palmer told them. "You'll get additional instructions later when I need to debrief you."

"Yes ma'am," Buck said with a sigh. "Girls?"

Spartans Vale and Tanaka shrugged and followed after him without a word. Buck struggled not to look at the damage too pointedly, but there was enough blood that it was a struggle not to wonder what had happened to the unlucky Spartan to have left that red stain behind.

* * *

Shepard had been waiting inside the so-called conference room ever since the word had come that Cap and Osiris had shown up inside the system. She wasn't the only one that had rushed towards the conference room. By the time she got in there were already several other people inside. Shepard had put on her armor as soon as possible before jogging towards the room. Inside were already the three Spartans of Red Team standing next to each other. Jerome, Alice, and Douglas all had their armor on. Shepard didn't think that she had ever seen them without the venerable MJOLNIR Mk. VI armor on. They were taller than other Spartans, which was strictly true, but it wasn't like they were as large as the Sangheili. They had an air about them that made them seem larger than life. Shepard had heard similar things about Master Chief, but even those that had seen him and the Spartans of Red Team said that the Chief was just something else. He exuded power.

Shepard nodded in their direction and felt a certain degree of childlike satisfaction when they gave her a quick nod back.

The room itself had other people inside. Spartan Ray was lounging against a wall in a pair of Cargo pants and a loose-fitting shirt. That in itself was an oddity, there weren't many shirts that would look loose on a Spartan, and Shepard knew that Naiya wasn't the kind to wear loose-fitting clothes either.

"What's with the shirt?" Shepard asked.

Spartan Ray chuckled. "Ouch."

"Hey, it's a legit question."

Spartan Ray simply rolled her eyes and shook her head. By that point there were already more people walking inside the conference room. Shepard noticed that certain spots in the room were taped off and had a name inside of them so that everyone could view all attendees without interference. It seemed like this would be a large conference. The Spartan-III walked inside as well, he was wearing MJOLNIR armor as well, but his bald head was uncovered. She had met him once before, Jun, one of the few survivors of the Spartan-III program and a member of Noble. He would have been even more legendary than he already was had he not been in the same squad as A259 and B312.

The ONI liaison to the ship also showed up, shooting Shepard and Ray a quick nod before standing off to the side, holding a datapad close to her body. A couple of fireteam leaders showed up as well, finding spots around the room. There were a fair amount of Spartans in the room, but all of them gave the Spartan-IIs a wide berth. It was both out of respect and a degree of fear.

"Shep," Spartan Gabriel Thorne said in greeting as he approached them. "How's it going?"

"Could be worse," she replied. "You know Naiya?"

"We've met before," he said. "Any idea what this is all about."

"Time to make decisions," Shepard said. "Some of the names in in those squared off areas are big shots. We've got Harper, Cutter, and the members of the Security Council."

"Well damn," Thorne said, shaking his head slowly.

After that there was some mumbling amongst the attendees. Nobody really wanted to say anything out loud, so instead they made small talk. Heads turned towards the entrance as Commander Palmer walked inside, a DMR cradled across her body. Next to her were Spartan Castillo and Spartan Locke.

Cap immediately spotted her and Ray and shot them a quick shit-eating grin. He muttered something to Palmer that she couldn't hear before he moved towards them. He was the only Spartan other than Ray not wearing any armor, however, he did have a battle rifle and a pistol, making Ray the only Spartan to be unarmed in the room.

"Well I'll be damned," Ray said, smiling widely as Cap approached them.

Shepard glanced sideways at her and frowned ever so slightly. "You two guys fucking or something?"

"No!" Ray gasped, blushing.

"Working on it," Cap replied simultaneously, face expressionless. "Good to see you girls made it out alive."

Shepard smiled while Ray remained slightly mortified. "Same could be said for you. We thought you were done for."

"I've been through worse," he said. "Thorne, good to see you, man."

"Cap," Thorne said, smiling with slight amusement at the situation.

"I went through the casualty list," Cap told Shepard, "I didn't see Wattana or Parker there." He paused briefly. "I was hoping that was a mistake?"

Shepard's mouth opened before she snapped it close. She wanted to laugh despite herself, but she didn't know anyone that would make a joke that morbid about something that had happened so recently. Despite herself she found herself suppressing a small smile at the same time that Thorne and Ray looked away, obviously trying to do the same thing.

"No mistake there," Shepard replied. "Both of them are alive and kicking."

Cap shrugged. "There's always tomorrow. What's up with you Naiya?"

"Took a helluva beating," she said. "Doctor recommended a couple of weeks without any strenuous activity."

"Looks like you'll have to work on it a bit longer, eh?" Shepard said, elbowing Cap in the ribs.

Cap and Thorne chuckled while Spartan Ray rolled her eyes so far up that Shepard wouldn't have been surprised to see the optic nerve poking out the front.

"Are you going to tell us about what happened?" Shepard asked, her tone becoming more serious.

"I'm sure it'll pop up," he replied. "All in due time."

Captain Lasky walked inside the room as he said that. Everyone snapped to attention and saluted. Lasky barely seemed to notice before waving them away. He moved towards the large holotable in the middle of the room. Roland popped up and had a brief conversation with the captain before Lasky scratched the back of his head and sighed. Shepard had noticed a slight limp as he walked inside.

"Alright everyone, listen up," he said. "This now is an important meeting, might make it to the history books. Do not speak unless spoken to, that goes for you too, Sarah."

"Sir," she nodded in acknowledgement.

"Patch us in, Roland," Lasky said.

The generators hummed slightly and then immediately displayed holographic projections of several highly-ranked individuals around the room. Shepard knew most of them by sight and the ones that didn't she knew by name. Her stomach jumped a little bit at seeing so many big names.

"Let's make this quick, Lasky," a woman with a severe look to her face said. "I am not happy with the security accommodations."

As soon as she finished talking the woman turned towards Red Team and tilted her head ever so slightly. Shepard noticed that the leader of the Spartan-IIs replied in kind. The movement was barely perceptible.

"Of course, Admiral," Lasky said.

Shepard realized that this woman was Serin Osman, the Commander in Chief of ONI. Rumor had it that she had undergone augmentations herself.

However, she was not the only person there.

Fleet Admiral Harper sat in the middle of a holographic set of chairs, looking tired and frustrated. On either side of him sat Generals Hogan and Dellert of the Marines and the Air Force respectively. Hogan wasn't very well-liked, but despite his reputation he was a very competent man. Dellert looked more like an accountant than a military man, but Shepard knew that several Air Force airmen held him in high esteem. To Dellert's right sat General Strauss, a demigod if you asked anyone in the UNSC Army, almost as admired as the Chief himself. He managed to keep the Army relevant in an age where the Marines got all the funding and the lines at their recruiting stations went around the block. Vice Admiral Osman sat to Hogan's left.

Opposite them and forming some sort of semi-circle that excluded all the lower ranking Spartans and crew members of the _Infinity_ sat the UEG Secretary of Defense. Shepard had seen pictures of Paul Russel before, and her understanding was that he had been instrumental in motivating troops on Earth during the Covenant invasion in '52. He looked surprisingly disinterested in the matters at hand.

The most surprising hologram was one that showed not one, but two Sangheili clad in full battle armor. One of them was unmistakable. The Arbiter. Shepard stared at the armor in mild awe. She knew that it had been designed to intimidate and to let everyone know that the person (or alien) wearing it was definitely in charge. The massive elite looked even larger in the elaborately decorated armor. Standing next to him and slightly behind was another Sangheili clad in white armor that appeared to have been polished a few thousand times prior to being put on. The quality of the projections was nothing to balk at, the _Infinity_ was using full color displays that were rarely brought out.

"What the hell are they doing here," Cap muttered under his breath as the two Sangheili appeared.

"Well, the Arbiter is here because he leads the Sangheili," Ray began sarcastically. A quick look from Cap made her stop.

Shepard knew that Cap had gone through the majority of the Great War. She didn't have any love for the Covenant races, but she hadn't experienced firsthand what Cap had.

"Everyone's here," Lasky said, killing the murmurs that had arisen when the two aliens appeared. "Shall we begin?"

* * *

 **0254/3198 (Galactic Standard)/**

 **Presidium, Citadel, Widow System**

Special Tasks Group operative Mordin Solus was deeply terrified. He ran through the nearly-empty Citadel, holding a shotgun close to his body while he pressed his left hand against his hip, trying to keep more blood from leaking through the medigel. Half his unit had stopped reporting merely hours after landing on the Citadel and the other half had become embroiled in a firefight with unknown assailants. The firefight had been loud enough that Mordin could hear it from several kilometers away, but there had been absolutely no C-Sec response to the chaos.

Not that he was surprised, C-Sec had stopped responding to communications a few days back, and the Citadel had been deemed an emergency zone. The Turian soldiers were still trying to make their way through the Presidium, but those things were holding them in check. Asari commandos had been deployed in multiple places over the station, but cooperation with the Asari had broken down incredibly quickly. Mordin was part of the third attempt to remove the Salarian councilor from the citadel. The first attempt didn't really count, as it consisted of a small squad deployed towards the councilor's quarters while a larger force evacuated important Salarian personnel. It had failed spectacularly, as nobody had been prepared for what was going to happen. The entire squad had been wiped out, but not before they managed to get Valern back to safety inside the Presidium, where the regular guards had managed to keep the assailants away.

There had been surprisingly little information on the enemy, only that they seemed to mimic different life forms, particularly Turian and Batarians. He had not seen any of them up close yet, but he did have trouble identifying hostile and friendly Turians now that his IFF tags had been jammed.

He looked at his omnitool and sighed before he kept moving forward as fast as he dared.

The city was in surprisingly little chaos. Thousands of people had evacuated when the so-called discontent began. Somehow the criminal element had gotten word and larger and larger shipments of mercenaries and criminal gangs had infiltrated the Citadel. Crime had spiked alarmingly for a space of about a week, but after that something scary began to take place. Mordin didn't really know what it was, but the mass evacuations had taken place right after. Everyone that had access to a space-faring ship had made a run towards the _Destiny Ascension_ to try to get to safety. The matriarch hadn't had the heart to blow up hundreds of families, and as such the vessel was now crammed with refugees. Apparently they had been trying to coordinate with the Republics to get the refugees to safety so that they could do their job, but they hadn't been able to communicate at all through the relay and they couldn't quite abandon the Citadel while Tevos was still inside. A few of the Turian carriers had been repurposed to transport the families off-system, but it took time to travel to safety, drop off hundreds of scared civilians, and then return. Not to mention that they had to be dropped off in a planet that had a semblance of a refugee camp.

It was, as the Turians said, a pretty fucked up situation.

He turned the corner to see three Turians standing close to each other. They were clearly not the friendly kind. From this distance he could tell that they were clearly not normal Turians. They had cybernetic implants of some sort, but they were so extensive that they looked more like robots that had been made to look like Turians than the other way around.

He raised his weapon and fired three times, taking their shields out before they could even turn around to face him. He raised his arm as his heat sink cooled and shot an incineration burst at them. They were close enough that all three caught on fire and were nearly disintegrated by the time he finally walked past them. Mordin could now feel that the medigel had stopped the bleeding and the local anesthetic was beginning to work. He'd have to get the injury looked at soon, but it should heal properly regardless.

He was almost to the target. He could see blood and signs of battle, but strangely enough there were no bodies present. He took a quick note of that, remembering that he hadn't really seen that many bodies here at all.

 _Hmm… interesting._

His musings were cut short as he finally reached the councilor's last known location. If his intel was correct, then Valern would be here. He looked around twice to make sure no one was there before tapping the code into the keypad. The light turned green and the door slip open. Mordin immediately found himself facing the twin barrels of a Vindicator assault rifle.

"Councilor Sparatus. Most unexpected. Wasn't aware that you would be here. This changes mission parameters."

"About time," Sparatus muttered, lowering his rifle. "Come in. Valern is this way."

"Councilor, you are injured. Do you require medical attention?"

"Not today," he said. "Believe it or not, it looks a lot worse than it is."

"Ah, finally," Councilor Valern said when he saw Mordin. "I was beginning to fear… abandonment."

"STG took its time," Mordin admitted. "Hurried."

"What's the exit plan?" Sparatus asked. "We've tried sneaking past the marauders, but we're not going to try that again."

"Oh no," Valern said, smiling slightly. "Most unpleasant experience."

"Original plan was to sneak back out. STG mapped vents. Original plan should still be viable. Numbers complicate things slightly."

"Well, let's get moving," the Turian councilor said.

"Wait. Timing important. Turian forces keeping enemy occupied. Marauders, you called them? Why?"

"Because they do a lot of marauding," he replied. "Better than calling them those things."

Mordin quickly tapped something into his omnitool before examining the room carefully. Two Turian C-Sec guards were dead in a corner, their armor had been too damaged to make much use of it, but Sparatus had put on the arm and leg coverings for protection. Valern had thrown on ill-fitting thigh armor and had a pistol strapped to his hip.

"Councilor. Was unaware you were weapons trained."

"I am not," Councilor Valern replied. "Sparatus insisted. Said it was needed."

"Taught him how to work the safety and cool the heat sink. He says he can aim well enough."

"How hard could it be?"

"Harder than it seems," Sparatus muttered. "Listen, um…"

"Operative Solus," Mordin introduced himself.

"Solus. Is the exit plan time sensitive?"

Mordin nodded.

"There's an important matter," Sparatus said.

"It can wait, we must hurry."

"No," Valern said. "Sparatus is right."

Mordin stopped and turned to look at the two councilors. "Explain."

"As you recall, the peace talks with the humans broke down rather quickly, right? You might be unaware, but our Spectre ranks have been decimated. It happened incredibly quickly, but the Spectre corps are now reduced to a half dozen individuals or so. The Asari Republics apparently had some sort of miscommunication between themselves, because their economic report didn't come in on time a week ago, sending the galactic economy into a brief panic. Couple that with a few reassigned fleets to pursue mercenary strikes and suddenly the Citadel is very vulnerable. Not only that, but Sur'Kesh, Palaven, and Thessia have reduced fleets defending them."

"There has been no indication of impending threats," Mordin said. "Need to get word out."

"It's too late," Sparatus said, shaking his head. "It's probably too late for us as well."

"Additionally, stock markets in Illium are falling," Valern said. "Economic panic. Disarrayed fleets. Perfect moment to strike."

"Is it the humans?" Mordin asked.

"Those things outside aren't of human origin," Sparatus said. "And the reason everything went to shit is that Tevos sabotaged the peace talks."

"Councilor Tevos!" Mordin exclaimed. "Please explain."

"She is no longer herself," Sparatus continued. "It was subtle at first, but she's clearly not the Tevos I knew. Every action she took facilitated this disaster and the war with the humans. It took very little to bring our entire way of life to an end."

"Tevos was still strong willed," Valern interjected. "Before she was lost-"

"Is Councilor Tevos dead?" Mordin asked.

"Might as well be," Sparatus sighed. "Before she completely lost control of herself she communicated with us through an encrypted message. Told us what was happening."

Mordin was a professional, but he also couldn't contain his curiosity at this point.

"She said it was the Reapers," the Turian said.

"Impossible. Reapers a myth. Old story."

"That's what I said," he agreed, "but the evidence is overwhelming. We are under attack by them."

"What do we know about them?"

"Not much," Valern said. "Tevos did not make much sense beyond warning of a threat. She spoke of a cycle and of ascension repeatedly. Most importantly, she warned us."

"Of what?"

"An invasion," Sparatus told him. "Whatever these Reapers are, they intend to subjugate the galaxy. Starting here."

"Can we stop them?" Mordin asked, still not fully believing the two councilors.

"Unlikely. Tevos said the Citadel would spawn the Reapers."

Mordin looked at his fellow Salarian. "What?"

As if on cue the floor shook. At first Mordin thought it was a nearby explosion, but it was obviously something much bigger than that.

"Mordin!" his radio crackled. "What is happening?"

If radio silence had been broken then it must've been serious.

"Unsure."

"The Citadel's arms are spreading open. Are the councilors safe?"

"Am with them," Mordin said.

"Get out of there now!"

"It's too late," Sparatus said.

"She warned us," Valern agreed. "Operative, we must leave. No time to prevent this anymore. Lead the way, we'll follow."

Mordin had a million questions racing through his mind. He was inclined to think that Tevos had lost her mind and these two were so shellshocked from having spent an entire week in the hellhole that the Citadel had become that they had believed whatever she told them. However, politicians or not, the three councilors were not average persons, they were chosen for various qualities that they possessed. Stupidity was not amongst those qualities. He'd give them the benefit of the doubt for now, besides, all he needed was to get them out the station and then he'd be able to actually try to get them to make sense. The two councilors appeared to want him to help with something regarding Tevos, but as soon as the station started shaking they changed their mind.

"Time to leave," Mordin said. "Team is waiting for my signal."

Sparatus and Valern looked at each other before shrugging and nodding back at him. They knew that whatever they wanted to do before was no longer an option. Mordin raised his omnitool to his mouth and gave the signal for Kirrahe and his men to move forward. They'd cut through the enemy and help him exfiltrate the two councilors.

He was shaking his head to himself as they moved. This didn't make any sense to him.

* * *

 **June 20, 2559 (UNSC Calendar)/**

 **UNSC** _ **Infinity**_ **, orbiting Ursa IV, Ursa System**

The meeting was not going too well. Progress was being made, but it wasn't going particularly well. The Sangheili's cultural norms were too different, Shepard knew, they were asserting their dominance the way that was culturally appropriate for them to do so. It just so happened to be incredibly disrespectful from a human perspective. Every human in the room knew the reason behind the disrespect, but it was hard to keep a straight face when you're being insulted. To make matters worse, the two Sangheili were not any ignorant run-of-the-mill type, they were leaders that had interacted with humanity before. They knew that what they were doing could easily be considered offensive.

Soon enough the Spartans would begin posturing and the Sangheili would decide that they weren't really in any rush to crush the Covenant remnant, which would put too much strain on the UNSC Navy as they attempted to hold the line against Promethean attacks that were sure to come. Add to that the presence of the newcomers coupled with the very strong possibility that the Citadel races would not agree to an alliance, let alone a ceasefire, and it was a very difficult situation to manage.

Lasky was doing his best to arbitrate between every party involved, but between Osman's passive aggressiveness and the other members of the Security Council casually bringing up human ground victories where the two Sangheili had been present, it was hard for him to do much of anything. Thankfully, Fleet Admiral Harper had remained mostly silent. His hatred for the Covenant was legendary, he had lost thousands of men to the unstoppable juggernaut that the Covenant had been a few years back. Now he merely remained silent and answered any questions that were thrown his way.

It took a lot of arguing, but a very vague agreement was starting to take place. It seemed like humanity would defend their own space as well as certain sectors that the Sangheili fleet needed to keep free of Kig-Yar pirates. Meanwhile, the Sangheili were going to end what was left of 'Mdama's faction before they bolstered humanity's defenses, which by that point would surely be faltering, because that's what humanity did, hold and then slowly fall back.

If the last forty years were a good representation that is.

There were several important details that needed to be hashed out. The Sangheili wanted 'Mdama's head, but Osman was adamant that the UNSC should decide what to do with him. The Arbiter simply stated that if that was the case then it should be up to the Sangheili to decide what to do with Doctor Halsey, as she had committed crimes against the Sangheili as well.

Not a lot of people bought Halsey's defection. Spartan Palmer and Majestic were amongst the ones that did, but it was just not very easy to believe that the creator of the Spartan program would ditch humanity. Granted, the loss of an arm was bound to make anyone more than a little bit bitter, but actively working to destroy the humanity that she had sacrificed so much to protect? It seemed a like a stretch to Shepard.

"Fine," Vice Admiral Osman finally conceded. "You can keep 'Mdama."

"We won't keep him, she-imp," 'Vadum growled. "We'll merely kill him."

"Make sure you get the right one," General Dellert stated lazily. "Arbiter, can we agree on the general aspects of the plan?"

The elite paced slightly to its left, the hologram walked but stayed in place from everyone else's perspective. "Yes," the Arbiter finally said. "We'll prioritize ending 'Mdama's lies. Our scout ships have spoken of these… newcomers that you speak of. Reports are scarce, but they seem to match your descriptions."

"I would like to hear more about these new enemies that you speak of, our encounters with them haven't provided too much reliable information."

Shepard could hardly suppress a grin; that statement could only mean that the Sangheili ships that had come across the famed newcomers had been forced to retreat without getting any information. The same went for any ground units, the Sangheili were not known for conserving remains to acquire intel, but outright asking humanity for information meant that they had nothing to go on.

"We can help with that," Captain Lasky intervened before anybody else could fuck everything up with an inappropriate taunt. "Spartan Castillo? I've been told you had direct contact with the enemy."

 _Fuck._

Frank looked more annoyed than anything. "I'm sure that the reports compiled by Cutter's men and the troops down in Tsubasa should be more than enough for our… allies."

"Some firsthand information is always good," Lasky said with quiet wrath burning in his eyes.

Shepard had seen that look before, and Cap tried his hardest to delay his answer, but even he realized that he couldn't simply say no to something that could be crucial to humanity's survival. To his credit, he did maintain eye contact with Lasky the entire time before moving up to the large holotable in the middle of the room.

Shepard wondered once again how it was that he still hadn't been kicked out of everything military involved.

"Ah shit," she heard Ray mutter under her breath.

"So," Cap began, clasping his hands behind his back. "Ask away."

You could've heard a pin drop in the room.

The two elites seemed to take Cap in. They had no doubt noticed that most Spartans in the room had their armor on save for Ray and Cap. However, unlike Spartan Ray, Cap was now at the forefront of a multi-race galactic conference.

 _Fuuuuuuuck_

"What do you know about them?" the elite in white, Rtas, asked.

"Not terribly much," Cap said with a shrug. "I fought them briefly and then tried to outrun them for the next day. I know about as much as I could gather from a couple of separate firefights and some secondhand accounts."

 _So far so good…_

Spartan Locke seemed to have keyed into her discomfort, because he was staring at Cap with equal intensity in his eyes. Everybody in the room seemed on edge now, but Spartan Palmer took the cake, she looked like she was ready to shoot Cap in the back with her rifle before letting him ruin this stupid conference.

Shepard found her hand slowly moving down towards her hip where her pistol was at before she checked herself. This time she grinned to herself. He couldn't fuck up that badly, could he?

"On the run?" the Sangheili asked.

"Correct."

"And how did a mighty Spartan find itself in such a position."

 _Come on, man…_

"I would assume that it happened in a similar way to your own soldiers who failed to bring back any reliable information. I let my guard down."

"How did that happen?"

"It's a bit of a long story, Commander 'Vadum," Lasky interjected rather quickly.

"Perhaps if we return to the matter at hand," the Arbiter told his subordinate with a rather growly tone, if that was even a thing.

"Of course, Arbiter."

"First off, we'd like to know what they look like."

"There's no simple answer to that," Cap said, "They had at least two different types, some of them looked like the Turians."

"Turians?" 'Vadum asked.

Roland produced a hologram of what a Turian looked like. The Sangheili commander had undoubtedly seen images of Turians before, but the limited intel that the UNSC had showed that Council incursions into Sangheili-held space had consisted mostly of vessels of Salarian origin as well as some unknowns that were presumably mercenary or pirate ships.

"Like that," Cap said, gesturing at the life-size hologram. "They look empty though, like their insides had been removed and replaced with biomechanics. More like the insides had been shuffled all together."

The Arbiter and 'Vadum looked at each other.

"The Parasite," 'Vadum exclaimed.

The room's mood changed suddenly. Shepard saw confusion, shock, and even worry in the faces around her. Most importantly, she was able to tell that the three Spartans of Red Team visibly tensed. Alice-130's hand reach slightly downwards towards her hip before she stopped herself. Shepard found herself looking at the Spartan's golden visor. She couldn't see her eyes, but she knew eye contact had been made.

Shepard remembered that the Spartan was still very young, having been frozen in stasis before she even hit her mid-twenties.

She looked back towards the middle of the meeting, the holographic faces were murmuring amongst themselves while most of the Spartan-IIIs appeared confused by the tense atmosphere in the room.

"No," Cap shook his head. "It wasn't that."

"Spartan!" Vice Admiral Osman shouted. "If you do not shu-"

"How would you know?" 'Vadum asked, cutting of the ONI director.

"I was there for that," Cap said.

At this point the murmurs had become conversations, the Security Council was arguing amongst themselves while Osman tried to get Cap to shut the hell up. The Spartans were confused and asking each other what the hell was going on. Lasky tried to get everyone to quiet down while the Arbiter switched to Sangheili and spoke to someone of frame.

"Have we met before?" 'Vadum asked.

Cap nodded, making Shepard squint a little. She knew that Ray and Thorne were the only ones that were still listening to this exchange while everyone else argued about floods or some other code word.

"Were we on the same team?" the Sangheili asked, crossing its arms.

Cap smiled. "If we had been on different sides do you think we would both be here?"

"One of us wouldn't have made it."

"You're right about that," Cap retorted.

The Sangheili commander raised its head slightly and grunted before turning to speak to the Arbiter. It took a minute or two, but finally Lasky got everyone to be quiet.

"There is no indication," Lasky bellowed, "there is no indication that these newcomers are the same enemy. Spartan Castillo… are you cleared for…?"

Castillo looked at Osman before looking back at Lasky and nodding.

"And they're not the same?"

Cap shook his head. "I'd bet my life on it."

There was a collective sigh of relief in the room.

 _What the fuck just happened?_ Shepard asked herself.

* * *

Spartan Palmer was pacing back and forth. She was angry once again. Lasky knew it didn't take much to get Sarah angry, especially nowadays.

"Relax, Sarah."

"Relax?" she asked. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Not gonna throw 'with all due respect' before that?" Lasky asked her, raising an eyebrow.

Palmer just looked at him and rolled her eyes. "You do realize what just happened, right? We willingly put all of our assets at risk with only the vague promises of a fucking elite to assure us that they're not going to try and fry Earth again? Are you kidding me Tom? That same alien was in charge of frying Reach less than a decade ago and now we're trusting them to keep our flanks safe? This is madness."

"We live in weird times, Sarah," Lasky told her. "I fought the Covenant for a hell of a lot longer than you have. I lost a lot of friends to them too. I know how you feel Sarah."

"This isn't right," she said. "I understand working with the Arbiter and his faction, but trusting them to this extent?"

Lasky shrugged. "There are bigger things going on. The galaxy has suddenly become a very large place. We should take comfort in knowing that we're still a major player here."

Truth be told, Lasky was worried as well. He knew that the Arbiter would keep his word, but he also knew that there was great animosity between the Sangheili and humanity. With a good reason too, one that was still fresh in the memories of plenty of people. Seven years might be a long time to get over the loss of all your friends and family, but it is not enough time to forgive and accept, especially when those that killed your friends and family look like something that a child might conjure up in a nightmare and still talk about their wartime accomplishments with pride.

Not that it was any different on the other side, plenty of Sangheili had lost their own friends and family, but more importantly, they still had a sense of superiority and believed that humans were still inferior warriors.

It wasn't a universal feeling, but it only took one moron to start a war.

"And to top it all off I find out that one of my Spartans, my _worst_ Spartan, not only survived an ordeal that should've killed my best Spartan, but also that he has some sort of clearance that I can only begin to dream of? I still don't know what the hell they were talking about."

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Lasky said. "It's not up to me."

She rolled her eyes again, something that was beginning to annoy Lasky.

"You knew what Frank's deal was coming into this," he reminded her. "You chose to put him in charge of a fireteam even though you were only allowed to read three paragraphs from his rather sizeable dossier and you chose to let him keep command of that fireteam after his performance tanked. Whatever your problem with him is, you can't get mad at something that happened before you even enlisted."

Sarah finally stopped pacing and turned to look at me.

"That doesn't mean I can't be upset that I'm so out of the loop. If I am to be the leader of these men then I need to at least know what they know, Tom."  
Lasky nodded, she seemed to finally be calming down. Sarah was a very capable leader, but she was also an incredibly emotional person. When Lasky said emotional, he really meant quick to anger. Plenty of sailors had made more than a couple of jokes about Palmer constantly being on her period. Someone had put a quick stop to that, but Lasky had to admit to himself that some of those jokes were nothing short of hilarious, however sexist they were.

"Everything is just…" she began. "I just don't feel like I'm in control anymore, Tom. We've got Shepard leading a task force to try and establish relations with the Citadel forces and she's not just security, they're just sending her because she took some bullshit courses in diplomacy. Then you have Locke and Osiris leaving for God knows where to track the fucking Master Chief who it now turns out went AWOL. Not to mention the fact that Frank's so-called expertise with these newcomers means that he'll redeploy to the frontlines because apparently being chased for eight hours means you know everything that there is to know about killing a certain type of enemy. But you know what pisses me off the most?"

"Do tell."

"The fact that there's a new galactic player on the stage and the best name we have for them is the newcomers. Do you have any idea how ridiculous that is?"

"We'll get there," Lasky told her. "For now I suggest you calm the fuck down and stop acting like a child. It's been a long and confusing day for all of, but at this point all these things are out of our control. I don't want to have you confined to your quarters, but it's not good for the men to see you walking around muttering to yourself while looking like you're about to kill someone."

She sighed and sat down.

"Not only that," Lasky continued, "Shepard isn't leading this mission, she's providing security first and foremost. Her experience in the Citadel made her the logical choice. Castillo would've been an option as well, but I'm sure that there's not a lot of people that would trust him to help broker a galactic agreement. Osiris is tracking down the Chief, I know, but we need Red Team where they're at their most successful. And unfortunately we cannot defend against the threat of these newcomers and guard ourselves against 'Mdama and the Prometheans while also patrolling the borders of Sangheili space. It's a difficult situation, Sarah, but that's just the way it is.

Palmer's face switched between various expressions, but in the end she settled for something that reminded Lasky of helplessness or resignation.

"Relax," he told her.

"How can I fucking relax right now?"

"Because it's the only thing we can do."

* * *

It wasn't exactly a good working environment. Then again, nobody really expected the military to be a stress-free place of work, particularly when they had signed up to be the most elite soldiers in times of war. They had signed up for exactly this kind of bullshit. Then again, nobody was happy about having to deal with this kind of bullshit.

"Covvies, Citadel, UNSC, et al," Parker said, his English accent making the list sound almost deliciously sexy, Shepard thought.

"Not to mention everything else," Klahan added.

"I did say et al," Parker reminded him. "It means pretty much that."

"Where did you go to school again?" Shepard asked Klahan, elbowing him slightly.

The Spartan simply rolled his eyes. The three of them had been told to pack up their things as soon as possible. They were to be assigned to a separate ship and with the help of the prisoners and some intel they'd be contacting Citadel forces and looking to establish a cease fire and hopefully work towards fighting these newcomers together. At least that's what they had been told, Shepard had been operating at maximum level of confusion for a while now and she was beginning to think that it wasn't about to change anytime soon.

"Shep, do we know what's going on?" Parker asked. "Is it just going to be us three?"

"Palmer said that we'd get assistance from some of the prisoners," Klahan told him. "I'm assuming that there will be additional fighting units on board with us."

"But we're top dog?" Parker asked.

"We've never been top dog before," Shepard said.

"Hard to be when you're sharing a ship with the best warriors to ever fight," Spartan Wattana muttered, looking over at Parker as he shook his head.

Shepard nodded in slight agreement, but this whole thing still had her confused. She understood the basic premise of the plan, but she was still trying to wrap her head around the whole situation. A few weeks ago they were fighting an ancient alien that belonged to a race that had once had a galactic empire. The Forerunners were capable of things that Shepard could barely even begin to imagine and they were already fighting against their warrior leader. Not only that, but prior to that they had been fighting a war for survival against genocidal aliens that could do things with their technology that humanity was only just beginning to dream of. There were a lot of things going on out there, but now there were even more alien collectives trying to kill them. One of them had magic, the other one had come out of nowhere and seemed awfully close to sci-fi zombies. Yet somehow there was something else out there that had scared everyone that knew about it.

Shepard was not happy to be left out in the dark. It was like when you showed up to a conversation that older kids were having and they started talking almost in code because they didn't want you to understand what they were saying. That's how she had felt during the meeting and every moment after it.

Packing all her clothes into her UNSC-issued duffel bag was not doing anything to alleviate those feelings, especially when Parker and Wattana were horsing around. She could tell they were bothered by not knowing, but they were taking it like you'd expect your standard grunt to take it. Nod, say 'yessir', and carry on like nothing was out of the ordinary.

"Shep, you alright?" Parker asked.

"Yeah, just thinking," she admitted.

"Don't worry about it Shep," Wattana told her. "Some things we aren't meant to know."

"An enemy that might come into play and hurt humanity's cause even more we're not meant to know?" she asked.

"We're boots on the ground," Parker told her. "All we need to know is our objective and that's that. You shouldn't worry too much, Shepard."

"You won't be saying that once you're going up against whatever new enemy we'll be facing."

"And when they come, we'll just kill them like all the others," Spartan Wattana told her with a grin. "It's what we do."

Shepard rolled her eyes, but it was hard to disagree or contest that statement. Instead she simply folded another MJOLNIR-compatible undershirt and proceeded to put it in her duffel bag. She had a bunch of clothes in there already, so she needed to save some space for boots and other things. It was unfortunate that all her clothes were grey, utilitarian, and dull. If she was lucky she'd get some black or maybe some Marine Corps green, but that was only if she was really lucky.

As she shoved a pair of boots into her duffelbag Shepard heard her datapad chime. She glanced at it to see that she had gotten a briefing message. She finished shoving her boots inside the bag and then picked up the datapad. She read the message and raised her eyebrows slightly.

* * *

"We good to go?" Locke asked his team.

The three Spartans were already rocking their full armor and looked ready to go. Spartan Douglas-042 had asked to have a few words with him before they left. Locke had taken his advice to heart, but his loyalty was to the UNSC first and foremost. If the Chief was AWOL like the rumors said, then it was his duty to apprehend him and return him to human-held space. Red Team hadn't been particularly happy with that, but they understood.

Locke was silently thankful that Red Team had gone missing earlier in the war, if they had spent as much time with the Chief as the other Spartans then he wasn't sure that they wouldn't have actively fought them on this. There was enough apprehension regarding this particular aspect of the plan as it was, even from the ones that had suggested it in the first place. Not even Osman appeared too comfortable with having the Chief tracked down and hunted.

Why would anyone be?

"Good to go," they replied in unison.

* * *

 _Thanks to **Colonel-Commissar2468** for proofreading this.  
_

 _Well, don't really have many excuses for this. Sorry for the delay. The story isn't dead and there's no plans for it to be abandoned, but the rate of update will definitely be a lot slower than we would have hoped for. Again I apologize and hope that you enjoyed this chapter._

 _Stay strong._

 _-casquis_


End file.
